Page 29 of A Maid of No Consequence (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
THE UNSETTLED STATE OF HER OWN FEELINGS
A little over one week had passed since receiving Anne de Bourgh’s letter, and still Elizabeth had a hard time believing what the lady had written in it.
Her confession to—and explanation for—stealing Elizabeth’s letter to Mr Darcy was astonishing enough, but Miss de Bourgh’s insistence that Mr Darcy had cared for her , and had done so all these years, staggered her with bewilderment and relief.
Each day since she had read the letter, Elizabeth would climb into the carriage that arrived every morning with Hannah already inside, and be driven out to the tenant farms. After meeting the families, learning about the children, and making notes in her book, she would return to the cottage, gaze towards Pemberley and think of Mr Darcy.
Every day without him seemed an eternity.
She missed his physical presence—his face, his smile, his voice—and the feelings he evoked through his kindness—seeking her out, asking her thoughts, making her feel cared for.
He made her feel loved.Assuring she was accompanied by one of his own trusted men when traveling around his estate was only one more thing to admire about him.
Mr Darcy was more than simply gallant or chivalrous or a proper gentleman; his actions were his way of showing her how deeply he cared for her.
In these days apart from him, Elizabeth realised she had not allowed herself to recognise his feelings because she felt she was beneath him in every possible way.
But she saw it now, looking back on every interaction between them in the weeks since he had found her in London, sprawled in a muddy puddle of wash water.
He treated her with kindness and care, he sought her out, time and time again. And why would he have done that?
She stood at the bookshelf in her study; her hand stilled at the spine of a book.
“He loves me.” The words came out in a rush, and she instinctively put her hand to her mouth to hold in a gasping laugh.
“And I love him.” Having never allowed the thought to come complete to her mind, let alone having said it aloud, the words seemed to silently reverberate through the room.
“I love him,” she said again; feeling a sense of peace and confidence she had not felt for a long time.
But with that profound truth, quickly came the reality.
Would there be a way to bridge the social divide between them?
Or would Mr Darcy’s family see only degradation and disgust in their attachment?
His aunt, Lady Catherine, had made her opinion clear; what of his other aunt, and his uncle, the earl? And his sister?
At least present company, Lord and Lady Landon, do not seem repulsed by me .
On most afternoons, after her walk to inspect work on the school and at least one visit to tutor the children at a nearby farm, Elizabeth would find herself at Pemberley, having tea with Lady Landon.
The viscountess invited Elizabeth to share daily accounts of her meetings with the tenant children.
It seemed to Elizabeth that anything having to do with children made her ladyship smile, especially after she had been feeling so poorly in the mornings.
On this particular afternoon, Elizabeth noticed the colour back in Lady Landon’s countenance, and made mention of it.
“I owe my strength to Mrs Hodge’s lemon tarts.
I seem to crave them, and I daresay I shall be thrice my size very quickly, if I continue in this vein,” the viscountess said as she reached for another tart.
Elizabeth laughed, feeling more at ease with each passing day in Lady Landon’s company.
Little by little she was feeling more the person she used to be, the Elizabeth Bennet that did not have to apologise or grovel, or defer her wit and opinions.
She had a purpose, and she was being treated with dignity; even though her present company knew of the alteration in her fortunes, she was never made to feel it.
Today, wearing a new rose-coloured gown, she felt herself nearer in spirit to the Elizabeth Bennet of six years earlier.
She was stirred from her wool-gathering when the butler entered the parlour.
“Lady Landon, will you be receiving guests today?” He handed a calling card to the viscountess, and Elizabeth could see a near imperceptible look of exasperation, before she smiled brightly and nodded.
The moment the butler left, Lady Landon turned to Elizabeth.
“Lady Pollard has paid a call.”
Stifling a gasp, Elizabeth felt her knuckles tighten around her tea cup. She fought the urge to flee; she had no reason to feel ashamed and would not give way to the most hateful woman she had ever known.
As she came down the hall, Lady Pollard’s shrill voice could be heard braying, “I must see Miss Eliza Bennet!”
When she stepped into the room, she came to a dead stop, her mouth open, staring at Elizabeth, who sat comfortably ensconced on the sofa, tea cup in hand.
Lady Landon sat demurely, with a small sweet grin that was not quite genuine to Elizabeth’s eyes.
Rather than invite the intruder to sit, she raised an eyebrow in greeting.
“Your visit this afternoon is a bit of a surprise, Lady Pollard. You have travelled a long way to arrive unannounced. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“Lady Landon, do you know with whom you are having tea?” she said through her teeth, glaring at Elizabeth.
“Yes! Miss Elizabeth Bennet and I are old friends. I understand you have known her some time as well?” Lady Landon tilted her head as she added, very sweetly, “You must remember calling on her at Longbourn, her father’s estate in Hertfordshire.”
“She is not Miss Bennet, but a lowly?—”
“Ah, I understand completely,” said Lady Landon, her brows knit in sympathy. “They do say age affects memory but I am sorry to hear it has afflicted you so early.”
Elizabeth hid her smile behind her teacup as Lady Pollard gaped like a fish. Before another word could be said, Lord Landon entered the room, nearly bellowing, “Lady Pollard! Well met!”
While Lady Pollard was gathering herself, Lord Landon continued, “How is my old friend, Lord Pollard? It is an age since we were at school together. Has he accompanied you? No? Please give him my regards.”
“Why yes, I sh-shall.” Lady Pollard drew a deep breath. “I have come…I have come to express my congratulations. I am to share the news that Mrs Bingley has given birth to two babes, one boy and one girl.”
It was clear to Elizabeth that this was not precisely why Lady Pollard had come, but the woman swelled up with self-importance as she felt herself regain some advantage.
“Ah, but you are too late,” the viscount said, chuckling, “as we have already been sent a missive sharing the wonderful news.”
It was in that moment that both Elizabeth and Lady Landon noticed the envelope in Lord Landon’s hand. Her mind raced. Two babes? Twins? Is all well with Mrs Bingley? She remained quiet, reserving her questions for later discussion with Lord and Lady Landon.
“I see.” Lady Pollard sounded defeated.
“Such joyous news for dear Georgiana,” said Lady Landon, clearly hiding her own surprise in Lady Pollard’s presence. “Would you care to sit and have tea, madam?” Lady Landon asked sweetly as the viscount took the seat next to her.
Lady Pollard looked at Elizabeth with barely disguised disgust. “I will stay no longer.”
“Then we shall give your regards and felicitations to Mr Darcy upon his return.” Lady Landon levelled a serious gaze at Lady Pollard.
“And pray, do not embarrass yourself by exposing awkward lapses in your memory. Miss Bennet may forgive one or two mistakes but she is indubitably a gentlewoman by birth. Not everyone in the room can claim as much, can they? ”
Lady Pollard flushed red, and as she turned and quickly retreated, Elizabeth finally let out the breath she had been holding. Slowly she set down her teacup, noticing the slight clattering caused by the small tremor in her hand, hoping no one else in the room had observed it.
“Well, I hope that is the last we shall see of her for a very long time. Landon,” she patted her husband’s hand. “Well done on your timing.”
“I do what I must to keep my lady wife protected, and amused.” Then, in a small gesture that surprised Elizabeth, he winked playfully at his wife.
“And you do that quite well.” Lady Landon returned her husband’s affectionate look and took the letter from him, reading it eagerly. She looked up, smiling, before glancing over to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet. Are you quite well?”
“I daresay, seeing Lady Pollard was somewhat of a shock. But I am well. Thank you for your consideration.” She straightened her shoulders and managed a small smile. “And for…for what you said.”
“Pray, do not give her another thought.” Lady Landon waved her hand in gesture. “I spoke the truth.”
“As Darcy himself once said,” Landon proclaimed, “his father used to make him muck the stables but it did not mean he became a stable boy. Birth is birth and blood will out. Everyone knows it and Lady Pollard exemplifies it.”
He gave Elizabeth a knowing look, with one raised brow. She found it challenging to sketch Lord Landon’s character. Initially she had perceived him to be unfriendly and aloof, indifferent, if not a foe. Perhaps she had judged him too quickly, as she had done with Mr Darcy.
“We shall talk no longer of that particular person but instead revel in the news of Georgiana’s happy news. Twins! The dear girl!” Lady Landon clapped her hands together. “I must write to her and ensure she is in health.”
For her part, Elizabeth was feeling great joy for Mr Darcy, and she could not help but wonder if, with his sister now safely delivered, he would soon return to Pemberley. How I long to see him!
A footman arrived conveying a message that Mrs Reynolds wished to see Elizabeth. After she quit the room and stepped into the corridor, she heard someone call her name. She turned to see Lord Landon.
“Yes sir, is something amiss?”
He softened his features slightly, looking less severe, “No, nothing at all. I wished to relay my thanks for your kindness. Your company and conversation have been a great comfort to Lady Landon during our stay. You have my sincere appreciation.”
Elizabeth was taken aback by his words, for this was the first time that Lord Landon had addressed her directly since they were first introduced.
“It is my pleasure, sir. I hold your wife in the greatest esteem.”
He smiled, nodded, and returned to the parlour whence he came.
Elizabeth stood dumbfounded for a brief moment, wondering if the winds had shifted slightly in her favour.
Moments later, she was again in the kitchen where the servants were celebrating the happy news about the former Georgiana Darcy and her husband.
Elizabeth sought out the housekeeper amid the small crowd.
“You wished to see me, Mrs Reynolds?”
“Ah yes. But first”—she stepped away, and returned holding a glass—“a celebratory drink. You have heard the news?”
“Yes, thank you, I have.” Elizabeth took a small sip of the punch. “I am relieved to hear they are doing well.”
“As we all are, Miss Bennet. It is the best of news!” Her voice took on a serious tone. “I see you have survived Pemberley’s latest unexpected guest.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I have. It was awkward, to be sure, but bearable, owing much to the kindness of Lord and Lady Landon.”
Mrs Reynolds nodded in understanding. “Just as Mr Darcy would have wished. I can only hope that the Inn at Lambton is not too much inconvenienced providing her accommodations for the night.” Her lips quirked. “But I must show you this.”
She stepped away into her office, returning shortly with a letter. “It is a note Mr Darcy wrote to myself and Mr Stephenson on house matters before he left for Haringwood, but he added a line on the end which I wish to share with you.”
Elizabeth’s eyes swept across the strong, finely penned words.
I leave to you both, to see that Miss Bennet feels accepted, safe and fully protected. In this, I know you will both excel and exceed my expectations.
“Mr Darcy wrote this?”
“Indeed he did, Miss Bennet. And I believe he may have shared this sentiment with his family in residence.”
Elizabeth found herself momentarily speechless. She had often wondered, since the day of their serendipitous meeting in London, what she had done to earn this remarkable change of circumstance, after years of tragedy and ill fortune. It was during times like this that it seemed most astonishing.
“Please be assured, Miss Bennet, that even if the master had not expressed his precise wish, we would have been happy to help you.” She gave Elizabeth a reassuring smile.
Mrs Reynolds refolded the letter. In a gentle tone, she said, “Mr Darcy has shared with me privately a portion of your history. May I say, I am very sorry for the hardships you have endured, especially for one so young.”
“Thank you. You have been so exceedingly kind to me, as has everyone at Pemberley. I shall not forget it.”
Mrs Reynolds gave her a pat on the arm. “Now, I am going to ask Cook to prepare a basket for you to take back to the cottage.”
“Oh, you need not?—”
“Oh, but I do! I hear from some of our neighbours that their children are already much gratified by your efforts. I fear soon you might have more students than you know what to do with! Providing you with a bit of sustenance is the least I might do.”
“You are very kind, Mrs Reynolds.”
Elizabeth and the overstuffed basket were driven back to her cottage in one of Pemberley’s fine carriages. Every so often, she would allow herself to look out at the grand house rising behind her. His house, to which he would return soon. And then what? What would she say to him?
And then an idea blossomed, as if it had been there all along.
A letter! She may not be able to say the words as she felt them, but she could write them.
After all, she did owe him a letter, since the last was stolen from him, did she not?
She set aside the thought that writing to him was improper.
Things needed to be said, and she would say them.
She needed only to share her true feelings with him. How difficult could that be?