Page 19 of Only Mr Darcy (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #1)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A nother long moment of silence passed, but then Miss Darcy gave a deep, shuddering breath and began to speak. “Last summer, my brother set me up in my own household, in Ramsgate. My companion, Mrs Younge…her references, although impeccable, were deceptive. She paid as little attention to me as possible. She would go out, leaving me alone. I did not care, for I did not much like her, either, and at first it seemed like…like freedom. But my lessons continued, and there was a drawing master who…who said things to me. Things I hated to hear, whenever Mrs Younge was not in the room—which was altogether too often. I tried to deal with it myself. I thought, perhaps I had invited his attentions, for I had very much liked him at first—not as a suitor. As a…as a grandfatherly figure.”
Elizabeth frowned indignantly. “He was disgusting to importune, and you could not have invited anything. You must believe that.”
Miss Darcy only shrugged. “I tried to keep my distance, to be more severe, to wear clothing that was…was discouraging. It did not help much; he began growing bolder, his insinuations grew even more disgusting, and he began sketching pictures of me which were…were…” She trailed off, unable to continue.
Elizabeth felt sick at the thought. “He was vermin,” she said vehemently.
“I wanted to confide in Mrs Younge, but it seemed impossible to speak of and besides, I was not sure…not sure she would help. Then, an old friend of my brother’s—he was my father’s godson, in fact…he began calling. Again, my companion left me alone with him—but with this man, I did not mind. He was so handsome, so caring, or at least I thought so. He-he asked me to marry him. To-to run away with him. Elope. I said yes.”
Elizabeth raised her brows, but still embraced the poor thing a little more tightly. “He must have seemed like a rescuing hero to you in such a desperate situation.” She spared an angry thought for the useless companion, and as for the suitor, any godson of old Mr Darcy’s—and any friend of the younger one—ought to have known better. Finally Miss Darcy pulled away, as if she required distance in order to continue her tale.
“A few days before we planned to leave, my brother came to visit unexpectedly. It was so odd, seeing him again…almost as if I had been living in a dreadful dream, and with his arrival…I woke up. Suddenly, I realised how horribly he would be hurt if I—if I eloped. I told him of our plans.”
Good girl , Elizabeth thought. “That was very brave, and very wise.”
Miss Darcy shook her head. “There is nothing wise about it. It turned out that my ‘hero’ was no friend of my brother’s—that, in fact, he had treated him very ill, even after Brother gave him so much. He is an awful person, who only wanted to get his hands upon my fortune and cause pain to Fitzwilliam in the doing of it. He cared nothing for me. Nothing.” Her voice was so very sad, so full of hurt.
“Dear Miss Darcy, you have had a terrible time, I can see. You have every right to a good cry, whenever you wish.”
“You are kind to say so, Miss Bennet, but I was not crying over him. I try not to any longer—I hate him now.”
“Be that as it may, you are not to feel obligated to tell me anything more. Your reasons for your sorrow are your own, and I am sure they are justified.”
Miss Darcy flushed. “I…I do want to tell someone. It is just so difficult.”
Elizabeth took her hand, squeezed, and waited.
“It is only that the dancing master—the new one whom Mrs Abigail Darcy, my companion, arranged for me—he is the-the same sort as the old drawing master from Ramsgate. Mrs Darcy would never have left me alone with him. She is very strict, very proper. I know I was safe, or at least in my head I know it. The danger was not the same. The man just…he just looked at me. But he made me sick. Yet I could not tell her, not for anything. I would not go to my last lesson, refused to leave my room, and my brother told me she has gone back to her home with my great-uncle, and who knows how awful the next companion will be? She might be worse!” A tear dripped down her cheek, and then another.
Elizabeth squeezed her hand again, trying to communicate, without words, her sympathy. “How awful for you. You did right, leaving town and coming to Netherfield. You are safe now. Very safe with your brother.”
“I cannot confide in Fitzwilliam. I have wanted to, but I cannot. He does not know what to do with me, or why I have burdened him with my presence here. I am sure he wishes me away, but I am…I just cannot tell him.” She sniffed loudly, bringing Elizabeth’s handkerchief up to her face to mop at her tears with her free hand.
“I understand how difficult it would be.”
At that moment—although still a goodly distance away—she saw a few people approaching. She identified Mrs Hurst, Miss Bingley, and Mr Darcy before the group disappeared behind a tall hedge. From the way Miss Darcy stiffened, it appeared she had seen them too.
“I cannot face anyone now,” she whispered, her voice panicked.
“You need not. Go back to the house, dear. There is a gravelled path behind this folly that leads through the marble statuary and directly there. You shall be well out of sight by the time they reach me, and in your chamber before they can reach you. You might claim a megrim to avoid everyone until dinner—but dear…please know this: you are not alone now. Your brother will protect you, I am confident. And you have a friend in me.” With a last squeeze, Elizabeth withdrew her hand.
Miss Darcy nodded and smiled weakly, rose, and walked quickly towards the path—but before the path curved away, taking her out of sight, she turned back. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I truly am grateful for-for your listening ear. Thank you,” she repeated, before taking the turning and disappearing from view.
Elizabeth watched until she was sure Miss Darcy was away.
A few minutes later, the party of three reached her; she could not meet Mr Darcy’s gaze, but did not need to. Miss Bingley’s annoyance commanded all attention.
“I received your note, Miss Elizabeth, and naturally I called for my brother’s carriage at once upon your demand. Suddenly, you were nowhere to be found!”
“Nowhere to be found,” Mrs Hurst repeated, shaking her head accusingly.
Hah! You mean, you were only too happy to be rid of me and are irritated I am not already gone! But of course, Elizabeth said nothing of her thoughts. “I apologise. I went out for a last stroll in your fine garden, and must have lost track of the time. Is my sister ready to depart?”
“She has been for a long while! I daresay she is quite worried!” Miss Bingley answered indignantly. “My brother’s carriage has been waiting.”
It could not have been much more than an hour past since giving the note to the maid, so it seemed unlikely it had been waiting very long. At length, she dared glance at Mr Darcy; he watched her, his dark eyes unfathomable. The blush rose in her cheeks, unpreventable. Her only certainty was that he was not paying attention to Miss Bingley’s resentment.
“I thought I saw someone sitting with you out here,” he said, his voice low.
“Your sister was in the garden for a few minutes to take the air, but she suffers from a headache, and she returned to her room.”
He nodded, appearing as though he had much more to say. It was fortunate, she knew, that Miss Bingley was along, so that he had no opportunity to say it. With a deep sense of dismay, however, she realised that they did need to have one more conversation. Miss Darcy’s needs were more urgent than the massive, tangled layers of guilt and yearning Elizabeth held towards the young girl’s brother; she fought to shove them back down into the deepest recesses of her soul.
In silence, the Bingley sisters and Mr Darcy escorted her to the front of the house—by way of a side path instead of entering it, as if Miss Bingley worried that if she allowed it, Elizabeth might plant herself inside and refuse to leave. How was she to convey her message to Mr Darcy? He must be permitted to hear his sister’s revelations. As much as she wished she might never face him again, keeping his sister’s secrets was, in this situation, wrong. Not for anything would she hint about it before Miss Bingley, though.
If only she could simply put it into a note! But the carriage awaited, and the Bingley sisters would see her cast into it with all due haste. There seemed no possible way to arrange it without speaking to him, but what could she say?
Mr Bingley was nowhere in sight, but Jane emerged from the house as they approached the portico—not looking especially concerned about Elizabeth’s delay—and said her farewells. Mr Darcy handed her into the carriage, but before he could do the same for Elizabeth, she turned to the Bingley sisters.
“I appreciate, so much, your many kindnesses, especially in your care of my sister.” She glanced in what she hoped was a meaningful fashion at Mr Darcy. “It will be good to return to my favourite paths and bridges. But I thank you all, again and again, for your gracious hospitality.”
It had been an awkward allusion, but it was the best she could do in the moment. Mr Darcy helped her into the carriage with his impassive regard unchanged. Would he believe she wished to meet again for…for an assignation? Her blushes, which had only just begun to fade, again heated her cheeks as he shut the door gently in her face.