Page 15 of Expectations (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #7)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE ECSTASY AND THE AGONY

I t would count, always, as one of the happiest moments of Elizabeth’s life; she had been lying awake, fretting in the dark, when the sound of rapping on the front door brought her from her bed.

Fearing the worst, barely taking the time to throw on a wrapper over her nightgown and light a candle, she dashed down the stairs and threw it open.

There stood Mr Darcy and the man she had learnt was his coachman, Mr Frost, each holding a sleepy child, whole and safe, and then they were in her arms, and tears, happy tears streamed down her cheeks as she kissed them.

Even Mrs Sergeant—not known for her willingness to rise once she had found her bed—came out in her cloth curlers and Sergeant’s coat to say that they were making enough noise to wake the dead and were keeping the sergeant awake with all their carryings-on.

Her tone was gruff, but she passed a hand over the head of each child before she returned from whence she came.

It was then that Elizabeth became aware of something that had at first escaped her notice, in the overwhelming joy of their return.

“Why do you all smell like smoke?” Both children stared guiltily at their feet, Cassandra clasping a sooty, disorderly- appearing Pauline.

Elizabeth looked at Mr Darcy, really looked, realising that not only was he missing his greatcoat and hat, but his cravat was loosened about his throat and a dark piece of cloth banded his forehead, giving him a piratical air.

And was that blood on his shirtfront? Her heart began beating harder. “What has happened?”

Then Cassandra, to her utter surprise, ran back to Mr Darcy and threw herself into his arms—an action for which he could not have been prepared; yet, he lifted her easily.

“All is well that ends well,” he said. “They were in the attics at Netherfield.”

“Oh, Cassandra. I ought to have remembered you once used to hide there, and searched it myself.”

“Perhaps fuller explanations could wait until tomorrow, when everyone is rested,” Mr Darcy suggested. Neither he nor Mr Frost would meet her gaze.

Briefly she closed her eyes, trying to quell her desperation to know the details of whatever misadventures had befallen them.

At last she sighed, and made herself do the right thing.

“‘Joy may endure for the night, but weeping cometh in the morning,’” she misquoted.

“Very well. I shall put them to bed now. I thank you both, again and again, for their safe return. May I offer you anything to eat or to drink? I am certain I could find something in the kitchen.”

Mr Darcy opened his mouth to refuse, she was sure, when Tommy said, “Oh, Auntie, could we have some toast and milk? We’ve had nothing but apples for ever so long.”

“Yes, yes. Go and wash your hands and your faces and change into your nightwear, and I shall bring a tray into the nursery. Cassandra, allow Mr Darcy to set you down, please, and do thank both him and Mr Frost for all they have done.”

Cassandra appeared reluctant to let him go, but surrendering to Elizabeth’s sternest look, she nodded at him in acquiescence. When she was on her feet again, she straightened and faced both men, clasping her hands at her chest in a prayerful motion.

“Thank you, Mr Darcy and Mr Frost, for rescuing such a wilful child as myself, as well as my dear brother. No apology will ever be enough, but I have learnt my lesson, and from this point onwards I will be the best-behaved girl in the whole world, forever and ever. Mr Darcy, you will return tomorrow, please, so we can thank you properly?”

Elizabeth’s brows raised at this unexpectedly lavish, formal apology. What was she up to? Mr Darcy looked from her to Cassandra, obviously bewildered, probably unsure how or even whether he ought to respond to Cassandra’s invitation.

“Please do come, Mr Darcy,” she said, truly meaning it.

Something told her that getting the full story would require some time, and she would like to hear every side of it.

Besides, she was incredibly grateful for his diligent search—and had Cassandra mentioned a ‘rescue’? What in the world had happened?

A sleepy-eyed Bess emerged at the top of the stairs. “Cassandra! Tommy!” she cried, and the children scampered up to receive her embraces.

Mr Darcy nodded soberly. “I will see that the neighbourhood hears of their discovery,” he said. “I presume you would prefer to inform the residents of Longbourn.”

“I will tell them first thing,” she replied.

He gazed at her for a long moment, as if there was more that he wished to say; there was certainly more that she wished to hear. But he bowed, and the men took their leave, and she wondered whether she would sleep a wink tonight, for both joy and curiosity.

Very early the next morning, Elizabeth made the short walk—less than a mile—to Longbourn. Her father, as she had expected, was already filling his plate in the breakfast parlour—probably preparing to join the search that was now, thankfully, unnecessary.

“Papa…the children have been found. They were hiding in the attics of Netherfield, but Mr Darcy and Mr Frost discovered them late last night.” She did not relay Cassandra’s tale of trying to start a fire in the hearth, the sparks setting off a blaze that caught on one of the blankets, and Mr Darcy’s arrival in the nick of time to prevent damage; she only hoped he would never hear of it.

“Well.” Mr Bennet sat heavily upon the nearest chair, an expression of vast relief upon his face. “Well. That is certainly good news. Morris said he conducted the search of Netherfield himself. I ought to have gone with him. I should have known those two would outsmart him.”

“I admit to having drawn similar conclusions.”

He scrubbed at his face. “Mr Darcy is still willing to take Thomas, even after all the trouble the boy has caused?”

Resentment swelled in Elizabeth’s bosom, but she tried not to show it. “It was so very late when he brought the children home, and he did not stay but a few minutes. We did not discuss the future.”

“I think he will. A man does not put so much time and dedication into a search for a child if he does not have an interest.” Mr Bennet sighed. “Fill a plate, Lizzy. You probably have not eaten well for days with all this commotion, and you are looking pale.”

He was preparing, she could tell, for his usual lecture.

It was difficult to obediently take a plate and place a few items upon it, when she wanted nothing more than to depart Longbourn as quickly as she could, back to her quiet, shabby but beloved home, and the little life she had built there.

Respect for her father, and the need to keep his favour so she could keep that home, meant she sat quietly with her food, nibbled… and listened.

“You have devoted your entire life to those children, and overlooked your own opportunities in favour of them.”

What opportunities? The Bingleys had held little influence with the ton , especially with Bingley’s sisters refusing to lend their assistance.

Jane had made some friends, but no one, apparently, who possessed a near relation suitable and yet especially able to take on an impoverished bride.

Besides, they both knew that Jane had wanted Elizabeth to stay in the country, with her children.

She had never offered Elizabeth the Season she had tried to give Kitty, and Elizabeth would not have taken it, had she done so.

Mary certainly had no more available clergymen with whom she might arrange another propitious match, and of course her father would not have approved of anyone Lydia knew, had she tried to put someone forward—which she had not.

“I missed no ‘opportunities’, Papa. There was nothing to miss.”

“Not, perhaps, in your role as mother to a couple of orphans.”

“Your grandchildren , you mean. It is not as though I adopted street urchins.”

He frowned. “You have done Jane a great service. I do not think she appreciated it, and you, as she ought to have.”

“Perhaps not. Jane was…often troubled.”

“You mean, Jane’s husband was a complete nodcock who seldom made much effort towards her happiness. Nevertheless, she could have found much more, had she held one-tenth of the devotion to her children as you had, and still do.”

“She loved him.”

Mr Bennet rubbed his face again, his expression turning haggard. “Yes, she did, and we can see where it led. I know, Lizzy, that what you mean by ‘opportunities’ is the prospect for a romantic love, like Jane had. I hoped by now you could be more practical.”

“A practical marriage, such as Lydia made?” Since he despised the match Lydia had made for herself, she was playing with fire by mentioning it, but she hoped he could realise that ‘practical’ matches were as thin on the ground in Meryton’s surrounds as romantic ones.

“Mr Morland is newly widowed, and very eligible.”

“Papa! He is older than you!”

“But well off. You are trying to distract me. My point is, as long as you devote all of your time and energy to Jane’s children, you will devote nothing at all to your own life. It is not right, Lizzy. To that end, I have already written to Mrs Plumpton.”

“You did what ?”

“Do not act surprised. I have made no secret of my feelings. I have given you a period of mourning, but it is time you returned to the land of the living. When Mrs Plumpton was told that Mr Darcy would be taking Thomas, her interest in her niece suddenly revealed itself.”

“Who told her of Thomas going to Mr Darcy?”

“I did,” he said, unapologetically. “She has written to me in reply, expressing her willingness to raise Cassandra.”

“She only wishes to use Cassandra to ingratiate herself with Mr Darcy once again!”

“Of course she does. Nevertheless, it will be incentive for her to treat the child well, will it not? As far as I am concerned, that was your only valid objection to her. She will not harm the goose that lays her golden egg of entrée to Pemberley.”

It felt like betrayal, on every level. “I never thought she would physically harm Cassandra, but she will never, ever love her—it will be the opposite, in fact. She will convey her dislike in a thousand ways, just because she can. And Walter—he was already allowed to hurt her once! The woman will not discipline him!”

Mr Bennet only shrugged and repeated himself.

“He was younger then, and Plumpton will not allow Cassandra to be injured. The girl is resilient, but she is also a troublemaker. Do not tell me that running away was Thomas’s idea, for I shall never believe it.

Perhaps a little humbling will do her good.

Her aunt will keep her safe, if she wants Darcy’s approbation. ”

Elizabeth shoved her plate away. “I have lost my appetite,” she said. But as she left the room, her father had one more parting shot.

“After Mrs Plumpton comes for Cassandra, we will close the dower cottage. You will return to Longbourn, rather than become a hermit there. You are angry with me now, I know, but this is for the best.”

Anything she said in reply would be disrespectful in the extreme, and do no good besides. She left him without another word, her heart once again cracked and bruised. Just how often can a heart break? she wondered. How will I ever heal it?