Page 30 of Rumours & Recklessness (Sweet Escapes Collection #1)

Chapter 28

I t was with the very greatest satisfaction, for a change, that Elizabeth observed the departure of her mother and sisters from the house just after their hasty luncheon. Primped and powdered, and each of them decked in their Christmas gifts from Mr Darcy, the Bennet entourage set upon the unsuspecting town of Meryton with the very juiciest gossip. The presence in town of a handsome colonel, son of an earl, who stood someday to inherit—the imminence of such event and the size of the estate mattered not—was not a thing lightly to be dismissed!

Elizabeth and Jane had elected to remain behind, but Mary, curiously, had followed the others to town. Elizabeth suspected that sweet Georgiana had somehow won Mary’s loyalty, and that the quiet middle sister wished to see her friend’s reputation exonerated.

Elizabeth was pleased, on the heels of everyone else’s departure, to welcome Charlotte Lucas. Together they and Jane drew chairs around Mr Bennet’s bedside. Mrs Cooper cheerfully made way in the cramped room for them, listening with much enjoyment to the plans of three young maidens on the cusp of matrimony.

Jane confessed, in strictest confidence, that Mr Bingley had obtained their uncle’s conditional blessing upon their marriage. Still, in light of their father’s improvement, it had been decided to keep their engagement private until Mr Bennet could have his say. Nevertheless, Bingley would now, in their uncle’s eyes at least, be accorded the privileges of one affianced to a daughter of the house, and Jane might consider herself an engaged woman.

Several things became readily apparent to Mrs Cooper’s wise discerning. She observed with satisfaction that her favourite Bennet sister, at last, looked forward to her inevitable marriage with pleasure. A fine thing, it was. Too often, bright young women with no dowry were shackled to insufferable husbands, but it seemed Miss Elizabeth had escaped that fate. That sweet Jane also bubbled with shy enthusiasm and hopeful pleasure.

Miss Lucas, however, seemed much more pragmatic about her approaching nuptials. There was certainly nothing wrong with a level head, but Mrs Cooper thought she detected a little wistful longing in the eldest of the prospective brides. Ah, well, not all could marry for love. It sounded as though the girl would be well provided for, and that was surely a mercy.

At two o’clock in the afternoon, the bell was rung, and Mrs Hill arrived shortly at the door of Mr Bennet’s sickroom. With her were two men instantly recognized by Mrs Cooper. The comfortable little woman wasted no time in introducing the young ladies to her husband, the Doctor, and to her son, who also wore a doctor’s smock. The elder Dr Cooper stood about Mr Bennet’s height, with kindly greying eyes and soft, weathered hands. Somehow, he was exactly what Elizabeth had expected him to be.

The younger, however, stood a head taller than his father with a broader form. He appeared to be about thirty years of age, with an average face, sandy hair, and bright green eyes. Though merely a country doctor of modest means, he obviously took gentlemanly care about his person and address. His manner to the ladies was pleasantly direct and unassuming. He smiled a little timidly at the pretty faces introduced to him by his mother.

Somewhat awkwardly, due to the tight spaces, the young ladies attempted to file out of the room so that the doctors might examine Mr Bennet. Elizabeth and Jane escaped neatly, but Charlotte stumbled a little over the post of the bed. It would perhaps have been in her better interests to be watching her path rather than trying to steal discreet glances at the young doctor. She suffered no major misfortune for it, as that young man was compelled to put out a hand for her support.

Blushing furiously and stammering her thanks, Charlotte reclaimed her elbow from the doctor and scurried out to the hallway. There, she encountered a knowing twinkle in her friend’s eye. She scowled, a most unaccustomed expression for her. “Stop it, Lizzy!”

Elizabeth affected an innocent look. “Stop what? I am only pleased that my father appears to be in good hands—very strong hands.”

Charlotte’s face flushed a deeper shade of ruby, causing even Jane to dip her head to hide a smile. “I am going home,” she mumbled uncomfortably.

Elizabeth did not let her friend escape without a warm embrace but was not above a guilty chuckle at her expense once the door had closed.

“W ell, Miss Bennet—” the doctor straightened at last—“I believe your father shall make a good recovery in time.”

Elizabeth and Jane, standing side by side and clutching each other’s hands, shared a glance. “When do you think he will wake?” Elizabeth ventured first.

“Oh, quite soon, I should think. I do not think him comatose, but rather in a very deep sleep,” he explained. “That may sound discouraging, but after such an injury, it is well, as it will allow greater healing. My wife’s testimony confirms for me that he is mending, to be sure. I have bled him, but I fear doing it much more. I understand Jones has been tending to him? Yes, well, I expect he has been at it with those leeches of his again.”

The doctors spent well over an hour fussing over Mr Bennet, part of which time Jane and Elizabeth evacuated the room to respect their father’s privacy. It was apparent to the girls that the married couple had missed one another during their separation, which would continue some while longer as Mrs Cooper determined to stay on with Mr Bennet. They parted with a reluctance all too obvious to the lovelorn girls observing them.

After the two doctors had taken their leave, Jane whispered confidentially to Elizabeth, “Do you not think it will be a pleasant change from what we have known for us to miss our husbands when they are away?”

Elizabeth smiled privately. “Do you mean rather like Uncle and Aunt Gardiner? Yes, that will indeed be a pleasure. I should much prefer to regret my husband’s absence than to wish for it.”

“Exactly.” Jane suddenly glanced about herself. “Speaking of our aunt and uncle, where are they? I have not seen them since Mama left!”

Elizabeth hid a smirk. “I believe they are resting. Uncle must be very worn out from his journey, I should think.”

Jane simply stared in mute confusion. At last, a spark came to her face, and she blushed. “Oh.”

“S o! This is your betrothed, Collins?”

Charlotte froze in bewilderment as an imperious woman with a hawk-like nose peered closely into her face. She’d had no inkling that her fiancé had returned, and even less that he could have brought with him the magnificent Lady Catherine de Bourgh of whom he was so enamoured. It seemed that during her brief sojourn, the pair had comfortably installed themselves at Lucas Lodge. The event was remarkable enough, but the presence of Caroline Bingley utterly befuddled her. What could have occasioned that association?

The grand lady drew back at last. “She seems a genteel sort of girl, Mr Collins. Not very pretty, but that is as it ought to be for the wife of a clergyman.”

Charlotte’s face burned. She knew very well that she was no great beauty, but no young lady enjoyed hearing her looks maligned before others. It galled her somewhat that not a single person present—including her parents, brothers, and her betrothed—thought to contradict or even look chagrined at the lady’s brash insult. Her eyes slid helplessly to Caroline Bingley, who looked quickly away, her half-lidded eyes admiring her immaculately buffed nails.

“Now, Miss Lucas, you will tell me what you know of this Elizabeth Bennet. She is your friend, I am to understand. Collins, I do have to doubt your young lady’s taste on that point. I do hope she can redeem my opinion of her good sense.”

Charlotte found herself seated and gazing back in mute wonder at the withered face. Lady Catherine, leaning forward upon a silver cane, seated herself opposite. Collins came to stand at the lady’s shoulder, a condescending smirk firmly plastered over his face. Charlotte drew a deep breath, bracing herself for a most unpleasant interview.

“W elcome home, Mr Darcy.” Drake dipped his head deferentially to his master while a footman took Darcy’s soiled greatcoat.

“Good afternoon, Drake. I trust all is well?” Darcy arched a knowing brow at his butler.

“Indeed, sir. It would be of note to mention that Lady Catherine called during your absence.”

“Yes, I heard as much. I trust she found the accommodations comfortable?” Darcy offered his trusted employee a sly upward turn of his lip.

“I am afraid Her Ladyship suffers somewhat from a depressed appetite, sir. You will be delighted to hear, of course, that Her Ladyship’s carriage is expected to be completed by this evening.”

Darcy pressed his lips into a thin almost-smile, but then stiffened somewhat, assuming his most regal air. “Is she in the drawing-room, then?” He began to turn toward that room.

“No, sir. She departed early this morning with Miss Bingley.”

Darcy spun. “What? Surely I must have heard you incorrectly.”

Drake shook his head. “Not at all, I am afraid, sir. Miss Bingley called late last evening, claiming to have been sent by you, yourself. Lady Catherine desired the use of the coach, and Miss Bingley obliged.”

Darcy stood in absolute shock for a moment, his mind reeling. His breath caught. Elizabeth was unprotected! He had only barely won her consent. If Lady Catherine bullied her into renouncing him… Dire thoughts rolled through his imagination, predicting woeful consequences for his relative.

He needed to get back to Hertfordshire! He had only just set foot into his own home and had anticipated a long delay before he would be able to wrap up the duties which had called him to London. Wickham had to be stopped, and that young lady brought to safety. There was no doubt of it, but the longer he tarried, the more volatile the situation in Meryton was about to become.

He viciously clamped down his frustration. It would never do to betray his feelings before his staff. Drake, who had known him since he was in short pants, discreetly held his peace while the young master deliberated another moment.

His clattering pulse began to slow a little as reason took over. Elizabeth was too headstrong and loyal to give him up at Lady Catherine’s pleasure. He could only hope her family would be equally so. He could not risk losing her! A daring move… yes, that was it. One that would risk her uncle’s displeasure, but he hoped he could obtain the amiable Mr Gardiner’s forgiveness.

Darcy met his butler’s gaze at last, a small twinkle in his eye. “Drake, please arrange for an announcement in the Times. I am to be married.”

Drake almost concealed his very unprofessional pleasure, but not quite. “Very good, sir.”

“H e said what?” Colonel Fitzwilliam, seated at last in solitude with Bingley in the Netherfield library, lurched to his feet in fury.

Bingley lounged patiently. He had expected such a reaction, which was why he had forced the colonel to wait for an explanation of Darcy’s unaccounted behaviour. Georgiana must not be present for this discussion, and it had obviously distressed her earlier in the day to be parted from both her brother and her cousin at once. At last, she had retired for a time, and he had pulled the colonel aside.

Fitzwilliam had begun to pace in agitation. Snatches of his voice carried to Bingley as the man moved briskly about the room, the growled tones biting out the colonel’s opinions of Wickham’s parentage and how decorative he might look with his head on a pike. With abrupt ferocity, he stopped and spun toward Bingley. “What has been done to clear Georgiana’s reputation?” he snapped.

“You did it yourself by arriving at such a convenient moment. I expect that… uh… the conversation with Darcy was overheard.” Bingley wrinkled his nose in faint displeasure. He adored his angel, though her family did trouble him somewhat. In this instance, however, Darcy had exploited the mother and younger sisters’ weaknesses with precision.

Fitzwilliam was not satisfied. He resumed his pacing, shooting occasional sceptical glares at Bingley. Bingley sighed at last and spread his hands supplicatingly. “Darcy told me all about Wickham. I wish to protect Miss Darcy as well. He has gone to London to track the blackguard down; it seems one of the local minor heiresses may have fallen prey to his wiles. That is why he desired you to remain—not only to protect Miss Darcy but to prove that he trusted you with her even while he was away.”

Fitzwilliam stopped and stared vacantly out the window in silence, chewing his inner cheeks in frustration. He could have been of much use to Darcy in searching out Wickham, but that was not an option now. Georgiana’s immediate safety, and by extension, the safety of her reputation, had been assigned to him.

Another sigh from Bingley drew his attention back. Fitzwilliam sharpened his gaze on the other man. “Is there more?”

“Caroline tried to come back.”

It took Fitzwilliam a moment to recover from that shock. Not her! “Come back, how do you mean?”

“It seems she rallied some person of influence from London to come with her, and they tried to gain entry to the house while we were away. Dawson managed to repel them, but I do not know who the other woman was, nor where they have gone to.” Bingley creased his brow in some confusion. “He also said Collins was with her! I believe he must have made some mistake. Caroline would never travel with that man!”

Fitzwilliam fisted his hands on his hips, an expression of horror mingled with amusement dawning. “Collins, you say? Isn’t he that parson cousin of the Bennets’? I know who the other lady was, and she will be more trouble than two of your sister!”

D arcy sent a hasty dispatch to his uncle. He considered sending an express to Bingley and Fitzwilliam, but it was likely, he thought in frustration, that the pair had already borne a visit from his aunt. Lady Catherine had some particular fascination for Georgiana and would try to browbeat the girl into standing with her against his marriage to Elizabeth. Fitzwilliam would never hear of her even visiting Georgiana under the circumstances, but his aunt would certainly have made her presence known.

He sent a letter to his solicitor, called for a fresh horse to be saddled, and donned a clean set of travelling clothes. Wickham would have to wait. Elizabeth was more important.

He wondered in some amazement at the involvement of Caroline Bingley. He could well imagine what had led to that particular alliance, and it pleased him not in the slightest. He worried for what damage the pair could do to his plans for happiness at last. How would they work on Elizabeth without him there to shield her? Bold confrontation was his aunt’s style, but certainly not the limit of her ingenuity. He knew well that Elizabeth would indignantly thwart any open attempt to overthrow her, but he hated that he had left her unguarded against his aunt’s more pernicious wiles. He began composing an apology in his head for when he saw her next.

Mrs Nelson, upon learning that the master had returned, had scrambled to oversee a fitting meal prepared for him. Great was her consternation when he informed her he had no intention of staying long enough to enjoy it. She shoved her hands into her motherly hips and fixed him with that stare she had once used on the wayward boy. “Master, sir, you will plumb wear yourself out! No food, no rest! But that’s the way of you heedless young men these days!”

Darcy broke into a wide grin, shaking his head in cheerful surrender. Less than a handful of his father’s old staff ventured the authority to speak so to the boy they had watched grow to manhood. His father had advised him on his deathbed to always give rein to his trusted old housekeepers and butlers. None of them ever dared abuse that privilege, so he always took it to heart when they spoke.

Mrs Nelson clucked over him while he took a few hurried bites from a tray, not even sitting down. “You will give yourself the stomachache, you will!” she predicted dolefully.

His cheeks dimpled disarmingly as he swallowed a mouthful of bread and cheese. “You can cease worrying about me, Mrs Nelson. I shall soon have another to do it for me.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Heaven and saints bless us!” Shyly, a little uncertainly, she ventured, “Would it be fitting to know the young lady’s name just yet?”

Darcy offered a bashful smile to his old housekeeper, and if she had been less than the perfect professional she was, he doubted not that she would have been patting his face in praise. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You will not have heard of her; she is not of the ton .”

As it happened, Mrs Nelson had heard a few whispered references to that name, but she was content to allow the master to think otherwise. Though her face glowed, she murmured the proper deferences expected when one’s employer announced there was to be a new mistress.

Feeling all the more awkward, Darcy promised Mrs Nelson that he would manage to finish the remainder of his meal without supervision. She bustled off with a new vigour enlivening her ageing bones. He calculated that within a quarter of an hour, his entire staff would know of his betrothal, and half the maids would be scouring the future mistress’ chambers, left untouched for so many years. In two more days, Mrs Reynolds would no doubt be subjecting Pemberley to the same treatment. Darcy felt his chest swell hugely as he choked down the last of his sustenance for the road.

Only minutes before he would have set out, Drake himself ushered in a red-faced messenger in a sopping wet uniform. “Pardon the interruption, sir, but I believed you would wish to speak to this young man yourself.”

Darcy handed back the fresh greatcoat he had been about to don and turned to the young enlistee with curiosity. “What can I do for you?” he asked brusquely, but not unkindly.

“Message from Colonel Forster, sir.” The lad handed him a pressed parchment, preserved from the rain in an oilskin.

Darcy took it and read briefly. The words caused him to pinch his lips thoughtfully. “What are your orders?” he asked the young man.

The red-coat came to attention. “I am to await a reply and then return directly, sir.”

Darcy glanced to one of the footmen at the door. “Take some refreshment and get warmed before you go, and see that your horse is well baited. If you please, inform the colonel that I intend to call on him in the morning. I shall be just ahead of you on the road.”

Darcy reclaimed his coat and passed by Drake on his way out his own door. “Send another message to the Earl of Matlock for me….”

C aroline Bingley had remained as aloof as she possibly could in the Lucas’ drawing-room, hoping to rebuff the patronizing monologue of the master of the house. Fortunately, he stood in such awe of his noble guests that his mouth had remained largely closed while his eyes glazed wide with hopeful docility. Every civility was paid with nauseating distinction.

Lady Catherine seemed well pleased by the attentions, which, of course, surprised Caroline, not at all. Occasionally she caught fleeting glimpses of boredom from Anne de Bourgh, but she could not be certain if the expression were born out of ill health or actual displeasure. Most of the time, Mrs Jenkinson acted to block the view of the heiress’ face from the rest of the room.

Lady Catherine had grilled poor Charlotte Lucas mercilessly, extracting every detail the young woman could tell about the Bennet family, Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, and Miss Darcy. Miss Lucas was no fool and had been clearly reluctant to divulge what she knew, but the authority of her father and the pleasure of her betrothed compelled her to hold nothing back. Once or twice, Caroline was treated to a baleful glance from the plain young woman, but she quickly averted her eyes each time.

Lady Catherine certainly had the right of it when she insisted that Darcy could not marry Eliza Bennet, but her methods and her casual dismissal of all before her galled Caroline. Prideful in her own right, she detested being made to feel less consequential in the eyes of her prior acquaintances. The only good to come of Lady Catherine’s autocratic coup of Lucas Lodge was that its occupants were far too intimidated to ask why she, sister of a local resident, would be quartered at their home instead of her brother’s. Soon, she comforted herself, all would be put to rights.

“Collins!” the lady summoned.

Caroline watched as the parson, that witless fop, demeaned himself before his patroness. “Yes, your ladyship! I am in constant attendance! I beg your ladyship to-”

“You will draft a letter for me. We shall retire to the study, Lucas, and I require privacy while we carry out our task. I shall also require pen and ink. Your means are clearly modest, but I trust you keep a good supply of such items?”

“Oh! Yes, your ladyship!” Sir William trailed behind his future son-in-law as the lady showed herself to the room she desired.

Charlotte Lucas had begun to edge closer to the exit when the lady turned back. “Miss Lucas! I shall desire you to remain. Lucas, do you require your daughter to return to her room and consider carefully in what manner the future mistress of Hunsford parsonage ought to comport herself.”

Charlotte Lucas took a deep breath, lacing her hands and dropping her gaze demurely before the lady and her future husband. After the pair had passed on, her features hardened, and she fired a glare at Caroline, which could have scorched the frozen landscape outside.