Page 15 of Brighton Rescue (Pride and Prejudice Variation #23)
“It would be my pleasure,” Darcy responded gratefully, looking down on Elizabeth who, while blushing slightly, was clearly pleased. “Shall we meet you back here in an hour, or would you prefer that we make our own way back to Lady Amelia’s home? ”
After a little further discussion, Darcy and Gardiner agreed that they would each escort his individual lady home.
The master of Pemberley, his heart full, guided Elizabeth down the street toward the lavish Promenade Grove where numerous formal beds of flowers were laid out between grassy paths.
For a full ten minutes, the couple wandered without speech; Elizabeth was delighted at the myriad conclaves of roses and irises and cornflowers, all well maintained but designed in such a way as to augment the natural beauty of the grove.
Darcy, in turn, while he enjoyed the flowers, admired the face of his love far more.
He had long admired Elizabeth Bennet’s vigor and enthusiasm for walking and her appreciation for nature.
He saw, in her sparkling eyes and glowing countenance, her enthusiasm for God’s creation, and, not for the first time, imagined her wandering Pemberley’s gardens at his side.
She looked up and smiled at him, and his heart leaped in his chest. She was so beautiful, so alive, so vibrant…
Elizabeth, in turn, found herself blushing under the intent stare of her companion. If she had ever doubted his continued regard for her, she was now entirely reassured that his adoration toward her had, if anything, only grown through the turmoil and challenges of the last months .
“Are the gardens at Pemberley as charming as the Promenade Grove?” she asked, struggling to retain some semblance of equanimity.
“My mother...,” Darcy replied, and found his speech trailing away. Elizabeth’s softly pink cheeks and her smiling, rosy lips were so enchanting that he entirely forgot what he was going to say.
Elizabeth waited a few seconds and then gently prompted, “Your mother?”
“My mother,” he repeated, forcing himself to turn his gaze on a flaming bed of orange and yellow calendulas.
“My mother loved flowers very much, much as you do, Miss Bennet. The gardens at Pemberley have not been altered much since her passing, but they are lovingly tended by our horticulturalists.”
“It must be beautiful.”
He turned back to her, determined to behave like a gentleman and not a drooling fool. “They are,” he agreed, and then added daringly, “I hope that you will see them one day yourself.”
“Mr. Darcy,” she said suddenly, “I am certain you are quite weary with being thanked for all that you have done for our family…”
“Indeed I am,” Darcy interrupted with false indignation.
“I do wish to say that I … I greatly regret my cruel, and entirely erroneous, words toward you back at the parsonage in Hunsford. When I think of my blind prejudice, my intemperate speech, I can only be ashamed of myself.”
“Oh please, do not apologize!” the gentleman cried out, though softly given that they were only some twenty-five yards from a party of ladies wandering along an adjacent path.
“It is I who am to blame! I was proud and rude and acted above my company while dwelling at Netherfield Park with Bingley, and greatly at fault for not dealing with Wickham during my sojourn near Meryton. Your reproofs were exactly what I needed to take a clear-eyed look at my pride and discourteous behavior. There are few women who have ever corrected me, and though it may seem odd, I find it to be one of your most wonderful qualities.”
Elizabeth smiled rather shakily. “Mr. Darcy, I believe we both have reason to regret aspects of our past interactions. I can only be thankful for this opportunity to heal the wounds of the past, even if our purpose here in Brighton is a serious one.”
Darcy stared at her in wonder and another offer hovered on the tip of his tongue. He repressed it. It was too soon to be entirely confident of the lady’s feelings, and with Miss Lydia Bennet’s situation still uncertain, it was not the time for a proposal .
“I am most thankful as well,” he agreed.
/
“I must say, Mr. Hartford, that Brighton is a far more pleasant town than I had anticipated,” Edward Gardiner commented.
The ladies had withdrawn after dinner, leaving the men to their port, and Darcy could not remember when he had felt so content.
Elizabeth Bennet’s words had provoked a sense of hope, and the companions around the table – the merchant Mr. Gardiner, the one-armed Mr. Hartford, his cousin Richard, and he himself, were, in spite of their differences in wealth and status, a remarkably congenial group.
“I believe that the Prince Regent’s enthusiasm for Brighton has given it a somewhat false reputation,” Hartford responded.
“It is true the town has grown and altered due to his patronage, but at its heart, Brighton is still but a lovely little town by the sea. When I returned from Corunna, gravely wounded, the sounds of the waves, the warm sunshine and the sea air, were, I believe, as important a factor in my recovery as my doctors.”
“Is the Promenade Grove of recent origin, Mr. Hartford?” Darcy inquired .
“No, it opened more than fifteen years ago. Without doubt, the Prince’s love of Brighton has encouraged the development of a number of other enjoyable diversions.”
“Miss Bennet and I walked the Grove this morning,” Darcy mused, a contented smile on his face. “The gardens are both peaceful and remarkable.”
Mr. Gardiner shot an amused glance at the tall gentleman from Derbyshire. “I confess that I am surprised that you were able to notice the flowers given your company, sir.”
The tallest gentleman in the room flushed and glanced nervously at Hartford, provoking his host to chuckle openly.
“You need not feel any chagrin,” Gabriel Hartford declared. “Your feelings for the lady were obvious to me within a few minutes of our mutual acquaintance. I wish you the very best. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a truly remarkable woman.”
Darcy, an intensely private man, was uncomfortable at this common knowledge of his preference for Elizabeth, but he responded with honest gratitude. “I appreciate your good wishes, sir. I can only hope that with time, I will win the lady.”
“I believe you and my second eldest niece are very well matched,” Mr. Gardiner said, abandoning his teasing, “and I am grateful for this opportunity for you and Elizabeth to spend time in company together. My brother by marriage, Mr. Bennet, may well condemn me for allowing such a friendship to develop, but I confess that does not concern me as much as the happiness of my dear niece.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had just taken an appreciative sip of his excellent brandy, looked up in surprise.
“You speak as if Mr. Bennet would be displeased at a union between my cousin and Miss Bennet, but that seems quite impossible! Darcy may be an austere, gloomy sort of man, but he is quite one of the wealthiest gentleman in the kingdom and very well connected.”
Gardiner, who was playing with his glass, grimaced and said, “My brother Bennet is an odd sort of individual. All of us in this room are aware of his dreadful lack of oversight regarding Miss Lydia. He is an intelligent but indolent man, and disinclined to bestir himself from his library. I have no doubt that his inability to sire an heir has made him even more languorous with regards to the estate and his family, though that is no excuse. However, while he is a less than exemplary father, he does love his daughters in his own way, and especially Elizabeth, who inherited both his intelligence and his wit.”
“How many sisters does Miss Bennet have?” Mr. Hartford asked curiously.
“Elizabeth is the second out of five Bennet daughters, whose ages are three and twenty to sixteen,” Gardiner explained.
“All have more or less inherited their mother’s beauty, but thanks to the entail on Longbourn, and a lack of foresight on the part of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, none will have a substantial dowry. You are aware that Elizabeth’s dowry…”
Darcy raised an irritable hand, silencing him. “That is of no concern to me, Mr. Gardiner, I assure you. Elizabeth is a treasure by herself.”
“Am I correct that Mr. William Collins is the heir to Longbourn?” Colonel Fitzwilliam inquired.
“That is correct, and while I have never met the man, I understand from Elizabeth that he can not be trusted to be generous to the Bennet ladies if the worst should come to pass.”
“Richard and I are both acquainted with the man since he serves as parson under the autocratic guidance of our aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” Darcy said. “I quite agree that for all that he is a clergyman, I do not trust him to be particularly generous.”
“There is another point to consider,” Colonel Fitzwilliam commented, “If Darcy and Miss Bennet make a match of it, your family will be linked by marriage to the Matlocks and Darcys and de Bourghs; those connections will give the other Bennet daughters more hope of good marriages in the future. Given how lovely and charming Miss Elizabeth is, I daresay men will be beating down the doors of Longbourn, though I realize that you are pursuing the most delightful Bennet daughter of them all.”
Darcy smiled, a little sadly, and said, “Miss Elizabeth is a rare jewel indeed, but many a man would be privileged to marry the eldest Miss Bennet. She is incredibly handsome, along with being kind, gentle, and gracious.”
“Is she as beautiful as her next sister?” Richard asked curiously.
“Most consider her more so,” Edward Gardiner asserted, leaning forward.
“Jane is one of the most appealing women in all of England, and Elizabeth’s closest friend and confidant.
For all that, they have dissimilar characters; Elizabeth is quicksilver and fire, and Jane is placid, serene, and wishes to believe the best of everyone.
She is a very comfortable companion and will make some lucky gentleman a fine wife indeed. ”
Darcy’s mind turned to Bingley; had his friend received his letter regarding Jane Bennet’s true feelings toward him? And if so, was Bingley still interested in wedding the lovely eldest daughter of Longbourn?
The door to the dining room opened, distracting him, and Lady Amelia’s butler, with a bow, led in a short, blond gentleman dressed in the dark garb of a laborer .
Once the door had closed behind the butler, Mr. Smythe bowed courteously to the assembled men and said calmly, “Sirs, I have news of Mr. Wickham.”
/
Lydia Bennet, dressed in her favorite green walking dress, skipped rapidly down the street toward the Promenade Grove, taking the time to wave at several militia officers who were up and about early in the morning.
The sun was shining, but the wind was pleasantly cool.
The air was redolent with the scent of flowers, and she felt herself entirely happy and, indeed, self-satisfied.
It had been no difficult feat to slip away from the Forster residence this morning, avoiding the maids already toiling away in the kitchen and basement, but it still made her feel grown up and mature to be sashaying down the streets of a lovely town, within the very sight of the Prince Regent’s pavilion, to meet with her love, the handsome, popular, divine Mr. George Wickham, whom every woman on the face of the earth would be privileged to win as a husband.
How she loved him, and how she looked forward to being his wife, to having her sisters gaze upon her with envy and admiration.
No longer would she be young Miss Lydia, but a married woman and quite the most important daughter in the house !
Her heart leapt at the sight of Mr. Wickham’s tall figure standing near the entrance to the Grove.
For at least the hundredth time, her eyes raked down his handsome form with enthusiasm, and she quickened her step as he turned to look upon her.
For a brief moment, she thought she caught a look of exasperation but concluded, a moment later, that she must be mistaken.
At any rate, he was smiling now, and his eyes were tender as he gently remonstrated, “You are late, my love.”
“Oh, I overslept a little,” Lydia responded cheerfully, “and then I could not find my reticule for a few minutes. I am absolutely determined to buy some sweets from the shop on the way home. I adore licorice lozenges above all things, and so does Mrs. Forster!”
“They are quite delicious,” Wickham agreed, putting out his arm and beginning to stroll away from the entrance.
“They are so tasty! But where are we going? I thought we were going to walk through the flower gardens together; I do love the smell of the roses!”
“In a few minutes we will, I promise,” the lieutenant assured her smoothly. “I have a surprise for you, however, which will not wait.”
“A surprise!” his companion squealed. “What is it?”
“Well, it would not be a surprise if I told you now, would it?” Wickham said with a fond smile as he gestured with his free hand. “It is within that carriage there. ”
Lydia quickened her steps and within a minute, she arrived at the side of the chaise which was drawn up to the curb of a side street with a dark clad man at the reins of two job horses.
Wickham, with a loving smile, opened the door to the carriage and touched her gently on the back.
“Do step in, my darling, and see your surprise.”
Lydia leaped into the carriage eagerly and looked around, first with anticipation, and then with confusion.
The interior compartment contained two facing seats but it was entirely empty of boxes or people or any sort of gift.
Moreover, the seats were tattered and the air pungent with the smell of old sweat and a rather noxious perfume, which displeased her sensitive nose.
A moment later, she turned in confusion as Wickham leaped in behind her, shut the door with a slam, and called out loudly, “Drive on!”
The fifth Bennet daughter, wide eyed, lurched and fell into a seat as the horses were set in motion. She stared in bewildered wonder at her companion. What was happening?