Page 40

SANCTUARY IN KENT

“ Y ou fell asleep on him?”

Elizabeth nodded, and Charlotte, who was already sitting wide-eyed with astonishment at her tale, bit her lips together in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal her amusement.

“Oh, Eliza! That is truly mortifying.”

“Why do you think I was in such a hurry to get out of London?”

She had left that very morning with the blessing of her aunt and uncle.

She had not informed them of the incident at the Four Feathers, but a mock marriage announcement between her and Darcy, printed that morning in her uncle’s newspaper, had persuaded Mr and Mrs Gardiner that her reputation was now in danger.

Hasty arrangements had been made, and she had arrived at Hunsford Parsonage one hour ago, where she had wasted no time in regaling Charlotte with her sorry tale.

“Thank you for taking me in. I know I have chopped and changed my plans, but I could not face another day in town.”

“It is no trouble,” Charlotte replied. “You are only a few days earlier than you originally planned, and from what you have told me, I am surprised you did not come sooner. I wish you had brought Jane here with you rather than submit yourself to such unpleasantness merely to stay with her in Gracechurch Street.”

Unable to reveal to Charlotte her real purpose of searching for Mrs Bennet, Elizabeth had given Jane’s melancholy as her reason for lingering so long in town.

In explaining the extent of the furore surrounding her and Darcy, she comprehended just how weak an excuse it was; she ought to have quit London weeks ago.

Indeed, she wished she had, for none of her investigations or lies had saved her parents’ marriage, and every one of her encounters with Darcy had made it less likely that he would ever connect himself to her.

“She likes to be with my young cousins. I did not wish to drag her away.” This was, in part, true.

“And in all honesty, for a long time, the situation with Mr Darcy did not seem so very bad. It was diverting at first—even to my aunt and uncle. Then it was more tiresome than worrying. It only became dangerous yesterday.” She did not add that somewhere in the middle of it all, she had fallen irrevocably in love with Darcy, rendering the whole business profoundly painful.

“What possessed you to go into the inn in the first place?” Charlotte asked.

“I saw him go in and hoped he might agree to see me home. I was so lost by then that I did not stop to consider the risk.”

Though she loathed the necessity of yet another lie, ‘losing her way on a long ramble’ had seemed an infinitely safer explanation for her presence at the Four Feathers than her real object.

There was, thankfully, some truth in this explanation as well.

It had been seeing Darcy enter the inn that had persuaded her to follow suit.

Before then, she had dithered about outside for an age, trying to decide what to do for the best.

“Instead, we were hounded into a cupboard and forced to hide like criminals from a baying mob.”

“I would tease you again about falling asleep on one of the most illustrious—and fastidious—men in the country, but I cannot laugh at the actions which drove you both to hide in the first place. It must have been terrifying.”

“It was not much fun. They were all but rioting over the hope of a token from a woman none of them actually knew. It was as though they were possessed. One of them snatched my bonnet clean off my head—I shall never see that again. And you would not believe the things they were saying about us. That I was Mr Darcy’s mistress—or worse. Truly, it was disgusting.”

“You are far braver than I, Eliza. I do not think I would have been able to sleep with that going on. I should have been far too afraid.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose in chagrin. “I was excessively tired.”

She had also felt indescribably safe in Darcy’s embrace.

In the moment when two men burst into their hiding place, she had been genuinely frightened for her life, and the impropriety of seeking solace in his arms had been immaterial.

When he had given it, holding her tenderly and whispering his assurances in that rich, soothing voice she had come to know and love so well, she had felt as though the weight of the world had lifted from her shoulders.

She doubted it was ever to be repeated, but should Lady Rothersea’s cousin ask her again whether it was heavenly to be in Darcy’s arms, Elizabeth would be more than happy to confirm that yes, it was.

“I am almost too afraid to ask what he said to you when you woke up,” Charlotte said tentatively.

“That he thought it would be for the best if I went home.” Elizabeth felt a real pain in the vicinity of her heart at the recollection of it, but she could not help but laugh at Charlotte’s obvious disappointment.

“Were you hoping I would say that he proposed? Come now, I expected more good sense from you. If he was going to offer for me, he would have done so by now.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true, but…well, he seems stubbornly opposed to the idea, despite giving the impression of being far from indifferent to you in Hertfordshire, asking you to dance more than once and staring at you constantly. And this was a particularly damning encounter. You were alone together in a room for how long—an hour? Has he no regard for your reputation?”

“We were not seen by anyone of any consequence, and besides, we are already the talk of the Season. There is not much that could make anyone more preoccupied with our supposed engagement. Not even half an hour alone in a storeroom.” She grinned.

“How disappointed everyone would be to discover that all I did in there was sleep.”

“You joke, but are you not offended by his determination to avoid the alliance?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No. All this speculation, people’s fascination with us, is nothing more than a glamour.

It will blow over, and afterwards, I shall still be Lizzy Bennet of Longbourn, with barely a penny to my name, a few less-than-ideal connexions, and four unmarried sisters.

And Mr Darcy will still be a single man in possession of a good fortune, in want of a more suitable wife than me. ”

Charlotte regarded her steadily. “Your opinion has altered rather radically. If I had asked you that question when I last saw you in December, you would have been sure to censure his pride.”

“In December, I was blind, impartial, prejudiced, and absurd. Do you recall that you warned me not to allow my fancy for Mr Wickham to colour my view of Mr Darcy?”

“Yes.”

“You were more right than you knew.” Elizabeth relayed to her friend everything she had learnt of Mr Wickham’s misdeeds and Mr Darcy’s endeavours to reimburse and support those affected.

“But you could not have known that about either gentleman,” Charlotte rallied. “Neither of them was particularly forthcoming with the truth.”

Elizabeth scoffed. “I might have made a better judgment than I did, had I not been flattered by the attentions of one and mortified by the disinterest of the other.” How much trouble she would have saved herself if she had only kept in mind Mr Darcy’s first words to her—or rather about her.

‘She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’ He was consistent, at least, for he had held staunchly to that principle!

Looking at her friend, Elizabeth perceived none of the shock that Jane had betrayed upon hearing the same information about Mr Wickham. “You are not surprised to learn this about either man, are you? My astute, sensible friend.”

Charlotte smiled modestly. “As you say, it is much easier to remain clear-sighted when one has been neither charmed nor insulted. And I can claim no peculiar insight into either. I had not guessed that Mr Wickham was this depraved, and neither had I supposed Mr Darcy capable of such generosity.”

“Oh, he is capable of that and so much more. He has shown himself to be trustworthy, obliging, patient—he is admired by everyone who knows him. He is an excellent brother and loyal friend.” He was also tall, strong, and unreasonably handsome, but Elizabeth feared she would give too much away if she admitted that.

It seemed that she had given too much away regardless, for Charlotte narrowed her eyes and asked, “And, if he were to ask you for your hand, what would you say?”

“He is not going to ask. But enough about me. You must tell me everything about your new life here. You look very well settled.”

Elizabeth was under no illusion that the matter would be dropped permanently, but Charlotte’s eagerness to exhibit her new situation was sufficient to allow a temporary reprieve.

Hearing them move about, Mr Collins soon joined them and was at pains to point out every advantage of the house, not least its proximity to Rosings Park.

The mention of Darcy’s aunt might have prompted Elizabeth to think of him had she not been doing so already.

The truth was, she could attend to little else, and for the next several days, he was rarely far from her thoughts.

What his impression must be of their encounter at the inn was a question on which she dwelt with particular anxiety.

She had done herself no favours, sprawling over him like a strumpet intent on seduction; but he had, as usual, treated her with nothing but kindness.

She almost wished he had got angry, for his unwavering solicitude made it torturously difficult not to cling to the hope that her affections might one day be returned—as did his assertion of not despising her.

‘Nothing could be further from the truth.’ Her rational mind maintained that it had merely been the gentlemanly thing for him to say at an awkward moment.

Her heart whispered that it meant something else entirely.

On some mornings, she awoke regretting not remaining in London to see whether he would declare himself at last. By the end of every day, she had remembered why it was a hopeless case, and the other reason why she had left town.

It had been Mrs Randall at the inn with Mr Bingley, not her mother.

Which meant that either Mrs Bennet was sharing her lover, or had found a new one, or had never had one.

Whatever the explanation, she had not returned home and did not seem inclined to do so at any time in the immediate future.

The marriage of Mr and Mrs Bennet was seemingly over, and the truth of it could not remain secret for much longer.

Once it was publicly known, Elizabeth and all her sisters must share in their mother’s ruin and disgrace.

Unable to bear the shame of it any more, she had written to her father with Mrs Randall’s new address and relinquished all onus for the matter into his hands, where it ought to have been from the start.

She was bone-weary of the whole business and in dire need of the sanctuary of her friend’s Kentish retreat.

Between the delightful spring walks around the park and Charlotte’s pragmatic, even-tempered company, she was able to forget, for the time being, the imbroglio she had left behind in London.

She did not even try to stop herself thinking about Darcy.

She had never before loved anyone in the way she loved him, and that, she had no wish to forget.