Pride and Pursuit: A Pride and Prejudice Variation, page 15
For they were both, when properly behaved, fine gentlemen, so different from one another as to make a judgement all but impossible. How could one possibly set Mr Bingley’s sweet and good-natured charm against the colonel’s sophisticated confidence? It was like trying to decide whether one preferred fresh strawberries or a beautiful painting. They were not comparable.
Further, Jane liked them both, but wished to give encouragement to neither. They were both new acquaintances and they were not pushed together in the best of circumstances; it was far too soon to really take a measure of each man’s character. Nor did she wish to respond to the colonel’s elegant gestures or assuage Mr Bingley’s jealousy, for what would bring pleasure to one must surely bring pain to the other.
Oh, how troublesome this was. She wished, for a moment, to be as plain as their friend Charlotte or as insipid as her sister Kitty, so as to occasion no desire on the part of either man to engage her attention.
Consequently, she gnawed at her bottom lip and stared out the window, occasionally asking meaningless questions about types of wheat and breeds of sheep, troubled all the while.
They were, at this point, almost at their destination. After spending the previous night at a fine coaching inn in Wolverhampton, they now were approaching the town of Oswestry. There, Colonel Fitzwilliam informed them, they must stay an extra night, for he had business to attend to with the local colonel, which was the condition of him being permitted to take the time to search for his cousin. They would complete their journey the following morning, a full week after Elizabeth had disappeared.
“Our final journey should not require more than a morning’s drive,” the colonel had offered. “I would prefer to get there sooner still, as would you all, but needs must. The local militia might be of assistance to us, and arrangements must be made. I shall also send a message to the staff at Coed-y-Glyn, informing them of our arrival.”
Jane hoped that these staff, whom she imagined to be an older lady and her daughter who lived in the village and who dusted the house once a week, would be able to find her a bed in some area of the lodge separate from the main room where the men would most likely sleep. She voiced her concerns to the colonel, who smiled and assured her that she would have some privacy. Mr Bingley, in turn, opined once again that should he ever purchase a hunting lodge, it would have at least three guest bedrooms for his sisters’ friends, but that Netherfield, which he had just now let in Hertfordshire, had good enough hunting that he need not look elsewhere for his manly entertainments. To this, the colonel gave an enigmatic grin and said nothing, and that same tense silence reasserted its reign.
It seemed hours later when the carriage at last stopped at the inn they were seeking and the four passengers alit, spilling into the courtyard to gulp in the early evening air. The day’s rain had ceased for the time being, and Jane was thankful to take a minute to stand outside whilst the colonel went to speak to the proprietor. They were expected once more, and within minutes, the inn’s menservants were busy carrying up their trunks, allowing the coachman to walk the team to the stables and carriage house.
“May I command a private dining room and order some tea, Miss Bennet?” Colonel Fitzwilliam strolled back towards them, all solicitude and sincerity. He seemed, once more, a master in control of his demesne. “This inn makes a very nice lemon tart, if such is to your tastes.”
“Or, perhaps, I can request a meal sent to your room,” Mr Bingley blurted. He thrust out his arm to allow Jane to lean upon it as they walked the few feet to the main doors to the establishment. Still stiff and aching from the long and jolting journey, Jane stumbled and let her weight settle upon his offered hand for a moment, which brought a triumphant smile to his lips.
“I think, rather,” she mused, “that I would like to take a short stroll. I am not so great a walker as Lizzy, who loves being out in the sunshine, but I am also accustomed to walking into Meryton several times a week. It is only a mile’s distance, but these long days of travel have reminded me how much I rely on that exercise. And this seems a rather pretty town. Papa,” she turned to her father, grinning his amusement beside them, “have you any objections?”
Once more, Colonel Fitzwilliam puffed out his chest, a knight gallant come to rescue the damsel. “I can vouch for the safety of this town, sir,” he declared, “and would be most honoured to accompany Miss Bennet on her wanders. I can show her the little church, which is most worth a visit, and some of the nicer shops, should she wish to look into any tomorrow.”
“A walk sounds the very thing!” Mr Bingley interjected. “With both of us at her side, Miss Bennet will be perfectly safe. If you wish to take my arm again, Miss Bennet, I will provide my strength should you tire.”
Her father gazed at them all over the tops of his spectacles. “Yes, yes, off with you all. Call by my room when you return for dinner. Off you go.” He turned and entered the inn, leaving Jane and the two men at the door in the courtyard.
She accepted Mr Bingley’s offered arm and they set off. The colonel did not seem at all put out by his rival’s transitory victory, but spoke a bit about the town and gave something of the history of the church of St. Oswald, which had been on the spot, in some form or another, for nigh on a thousand years.
“The church was damaged during the Civil Wars,” he explained as they walked around the building, “and was rebuilt in the 1670s. It has some fine windows inside. I recommend a visit tomorrow to view them whilst I am at my business.”
“Good afternoon, Colonel Fitzwilliam.” A voice sounded from a doorway.
Jane looked up to see the parson, who had noticed them and who clearly knew the colonel by name. Introductions were made and the proposed outing mentioned. The parson beamed. “Friends of the colonel, you say? Charming. Delightful. Yes, indeed, do come tomorrow, Miss Bennet and Mr Bingley. Lovely windows, lovely. I shall expect your visit.”
This familiar welcome was repeated as they walked along the high street, with townsfolk calling out their greetings and inquiring after his health, to which he responded with his accustomed good-natured friendliness and regards to the other’s kinfolk.
The more the colonel grinned, the more Mr Bingley grimaced. The momentary camaraderie they had enjoyed when first they set out had evaporated. By the time they returned to the inn to wash and rest before dinner, the younger man was in a rather foul mood, quite unlike the happy creature Jane had known on their stroll the previous day. He excused himself the moment they entered the building and stomped off to his room, leaving Jane and the colonel in the small vestibule by the stairs.
“Oh dear. I fear I have gone a bit too far.” The colonel’s words were contrite, but his eyes sparkled, and Jane wondered what, exactly, he meant by that, what his playful expression suggested. He seemed almost gleeful, and yet his words intimated regret. It made little sense. But she, too, was tired and eager for a rest before dinner, and could not exert herself adequately to think about it at the moment. She mumbled something inarticulate, excused herself and made for the room the innkeeper now offered to show her.
They met for dinner half an hour later. For the first time, Major Hawarden joined them, and Jane was able to get a sense of the man. He was tall, about thirty, and with a serious manner and few unnecessary words. His presence, however, seemed to have a salutary effect on the small party of travellers.
Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed a different person now. He refrained from his excessive attentions to Jane and his gentle provocation, and Mr Bingley seemed, if not entirely content, then in better spirits than earlier. It must, Jane considered, have been as much the exhaustion of the journey as anything else; in the little time they had spent together, their new neighbour seemed naturally of a cheerful disposition and uninclined to excesses of unhappy emotions. Yes, it must be the tedium of travel. And yet… something nagged her, and she began to put some thoughts together, which she dared not contemplate too much at the moment.
The food that was set before them was excellent, which Jane’s father remarked upon, for it was more common than not to manage with poor quality meals whilst travelling.
“They know me and my family here,” was all the colonel replied, “and almost certainly put some effort into the meal.”
Not for the first time did Jane wonder just what sort of position the Fitzwilliam family had, that an inn some twenty miles from their hunting lodge would cook a special meal for him. It seemed impolite to ask, but in time, perhaps, she would learn the answer.
Mr Bennet did have a serious question, which he asked as they were taking their tea after the fine meal was cleared away. The brew was hot and fragrant, unlike the watery concoction Jane had expected, and the lemon tarts were, as promised, quite fine. She was contemplating a second of these when her father raised his concerns.
“I understand that this man who is chasing your friend might be in the vicinity.”
The colonel nodded. “Wickham. Yes, that is true. I fear he is close. Too close.”
“Are we not, then, putting ourselves into some danger in approaching the area?”
Mr Bingley leaned forward, forearms resting upon the table, eyes as large as the saucers before them. “I must protest this plan, then. I would not have Miss Bennet placed in any peril.” Across from him, Jane’s father concurred with a single, slow nod.
How vexing to be spoken about as if she were an ornament on a wall, or not even present. Jane raised her voice. “Do not forget, gentlemen, that I insisted upon joining you. Lizzy is my sister and I would do anything to help. She will want me to be there, and I will not be put off.”
“But Miss Bennet…” Mr Bingley protested. “Surely you do not mean it. Can you not remain here? I am certain there is a respectable lady in the area who would offer you accommodation until we return with your sister.”
She levelled a glare at him from beneath lowered lids.
“Miss Bennet has other ideas,” the colonel opined. Mr Bingley swallowed.
“Well, there you have it, young man,” her father quipped. “My daughter is not to be gainsaid. But are you certain, Jane? This might not be entirely safe.”
Now the colonel cleared his voice and spoke on. “Major Hawarden and I have been putting some thought into this. I believe we can achieve the lodge with minimal danger. Wickham will be expecting Darcy, and if he has some brains in his head, me as well. But he will not be expecting Mr Bingley’s carriage, and certainly not a country squire and his daughter inside it. I had considered riding beside the coachman, but now I have a better idea. I shall procure some livery from an acquaintance in the neighbourhood and shall ride on the rumble like a servant. No one will imagine it is I, and when we pass through the village, the three of you can alight and all will see that I am not there. When I speak to the colonel of the local militia tomorrow, I shall request a handful of good men who, along with Hawarden, will dress as outriders beside us for the final approach. We will be well protected. Wickham is a coward at heart, and will not come near a guarded carriage in broad daylight, especially if he has no reason to believe you involved in this matter. If you are asked, you are my guests, whom I invited some months ago.”
“And if he recognises you?” Mr Bingley asked.
“Then, if he has any wits about him, he will flee for his life. My cousin Darcy is a peaceful man who wishes to see justice done at the end of the pen. I am a military man. My sword takes over where the pen leaves off.”
There was little to say in contradiction to this statement, and the scheme was agreed to by all, after which they soon retired for the night.
It was by the last rays of the setting sun that Darcy finally drove the cart into the stable yard he sought in Llandrillo. They were only ten miles by road from their destination, but he did not wish to approach the lodge by night. The paths they must take were tricky and uneven, and it was long enough since he had taken them that he did not wish to submit Elizabeth to the vagaries of his recollection in the pitch of night.
Furthermore, those were not paths for a horse and cart, no matter how small or agile, and he must stable Dobbin somewhere. He knew the people here; they would take good care of the beast. It was also a town where his name was known, if not his face. If necessary, he would be able to procure supplies with an appeal to present the bill to the Fitzwilliam family’s hunting lodge. Still, he fingered the few remaining coins in his pocket and hoped he had enough, so he would not need to mention his name. The fewer people who knew he was here, the better.
He went first to the stables to arrange matters with regard to the horse and wagon, and then he and Elizabeth stowed their few supplies in their bags and headed for the inn. They would be brother and sister here, his final coins paying for the two rooms and a bit of food for the next morning.
But he had not walked more than two feet into the establishment when some voices from the public caught his attention. These were English voices, not Welsh as he had expected, and what he heard sent bolts of alarm through him.
“...watching all the roads. ‘E said we’ll get more if we prove ‘e’s dead. The bugger wants ‘is head, believe it!”
Ice encased him, and his feet turned to lead. Beside him, Elizabeth stopped perfectly still, not even breathing, as the next man asked a question.
“And the girl? What of her?”
“That one, we bring to ‘is nibs, for ‘is amusement! That’s what ‘e said. Can’t think but that ‘e’ll off ‘er after, but that’s ‘is business, not ours.”
“And you know what he looks like? That one will want the right man.”
“Never saw ‘im. But they all look the same, don’t they? We’ll hear ‘im before we see ‘im, more’n likely. Them toffs with their fancy talk, heh? Oy, barkeep, another beer!”
Something brushed his hand and he jerked back in alarm. He almost sagged in relief when he saw it was only Elizabeth, reaching out in concern.
“We must leave now…” he began, but at that moment a matron, likely the innkeeper’s wife, entered the space from a side door and asked if they needed a room.
Darcy opened his mouth to speak again, then froze. Just as he had been drawn to the uncultured English words in the tavern, so those men would likely hear his polished tones, exactly the ones they were seeking. It would spell his doom as surely as walking up to them with a noose around his neck and stating his name. And so, he did the only thing he could think of.
He replied to the lady in Welsh.
He did not speak the language with any sort of fluency, having learned bits here and there from some of the staff at Coed-y-Glyn and the surrounding areas on his tramps with his cousin. The short conversation he had endured with the Welsh farmer in the barn had all but exhausted his meagre knowledge of the language. But it was enough, now, to conduct the business he needed with this woman, and he just prayed that she did not switch to English. Could he put on a convincing enough accent to avoid the attention of Wickham’s stooges? He drew a deep breath and hoped beyond hope.
For once, fortune was on his side, and he managed to request some bread and cheese without tripping over his tongue. “Gawn ni fara a chaws os gwelwch yn dda.”
“Will you not stay the night? Or stay to eat?” the proprietress asked in Welsh.
He released his tense breath. Elizabeth stood beside him, jaw tight. Heaven forbid the woman tried to speak to Elizabeth.
“No, diolch, we have some distance to travel still tonight. We cannot linger.”
This brief conversation, he was sure, would fade from her memory almost at once, more so than had they entered and then left at once. Two wandering strangers looking for a bit of food was nothing unusual. She would almost certainly not mention it at all.
Still, they had to flee, and soon.
The woman returned with a package in a few moments, in exchange for which Darcy handed her the appropriate amount of coin, and then they were out once more in the night air.
“What do we do now?” Elizabeth whispered, although they were far from the men’s earshot. “I hardly believed it until I heard them speak. I know we saw Mr Wickham at the inn that first day, but I almost wished to think it some sort of game. But it most assuredly is not, is it?”
He grabbed her hand. “No. It is no game. Here, this lane leads from the town to the woods. Once we are among the trees, we will be safer. It is a shorter distance than by the lanes, but it is not an easy walk. I believe some of the hills have shallow depressions, not quite caves, but somewhere that will provide shelter of sorts. It will not be a comfortable night, I am afraid.”
He walked quickly as he spoke and was gratified that she was able to match his long stride without complaint.
“An uncomfortable night with you is far preferable to anything those men could promise.” Her voice was grim.
They walked for about an hour, at first skirting the line of trees that stood near the town, then plunging into them. The land rose on either side, foretelling of the mountains that rose to the west, the little stream they followed leading them on a somewhat level path through the woods, but one strewn with rocks and tree roots that made the route challenging. There was almost no light left now, and even if he had a torch or lamp, Darcy would not dare to use it. The moon was a sliver in the sky and provided no illumination through the trees. They would have to stop soon.
There! He knew these paths. There was the tree he and Richard had marked as youths, the unusual shape calling to mind the prow of a ship. If memory served, it was just through there, and over that low rise…
They found it at last, more a fold in the side of a hill than anything that could be called a cave, but it would have to do. They were protected from the back and sides, and the clump of trees through which they had to slither provided some barrier from the winds to the front. More importantly, unless one knew where to look, they were safe from casual eyes.
