Teaching Eliza, page 22
“What has happened to our hearty colonel?” Lizzy heard as she stood with some new acquaintances at the refreshments table. Lady Malton was holding court, and the others—a viscountess, the wife of an ambassador, and a duke’s daughter—were exchanging information on some persons of whom Lizzy knew nothing. Her attention, therefore, was drawn to the voices of the men standing just behind her own party. She could not see them clearly without turning her head, but their words were quite unobscured.
“Old Brass Buttons?” A new voice responded. “Never seen him glum a day in his life, save for when his old dog died. Drank himself under the table that night, but never since. Still, not quite himself tonight, eh?”
“Never seen him like this,” responded the first voice. “Puts on a smile for the crowds and whatnot, but we’ve known him all his life. Something’s eating the old boy. Perhaps he’s been spending too much time with that prig of a cousin of his.”
“More likely crossed in love,” came a third voice. “Nothing puts a downer on a man’s face like that than losing his lady. Still… could be the cousin. He’s enough to sour anyone’s temper.”
At this point, Lizzy’s attention was required once more by the conversation of her own party, but she had to wonder. If Richard’s friends had noticed his mood, he must be quite out of sorts indeed.
Whatever had happened between Charlotte and the colonel, therefore, had not been of his doing, or at least, not intentionally so. Lizzy wished with all her being that she might succeed in her quest to discover from Charlotte what had occurred that she might set things to right, for the separation was clearly not Richard’s desire. He had even requested that Lizzy write a personal plea to invite Charlotte to the ball, which she had done, but her invitation was met with polite refusal. Neither the news of Jane and Charles’ presence, nor the offer of the Malton carriage to transport her to Town was enough to convince her to attend, and for that loss alone, Lizzy felt a pang of regret.
But the night was too magical to dwell on one friend, no matter how dear, and she let herself be swept away, like the girl from the cinders in that old French tale, until the last guests departed shortly before dawn.
The first rays of the new day were beginning to brighten the horizon when Darcy, Richard and Elizabeth finally staggered, exhausted, into the private parlour by Lizzy’s suite. A very tired footman had brought up a decanter of port and a pot of hot tea, for the three were far too excited by the whirlwind of the ball to take themselves off to sleep. There was too much to discuss, to many details to be examined, and Lizzy’s performance, her first public showing, must be analyzed, step by step, syllable by syllable.
She was the first to enter the room. Her lovely gown still hung in perfect folds from her white shoulders, her pearls and emeralds sparkled in the light, her hair retained its carefully pinned style, but her face was pale from her night of dancing, and her eyes shadowed in the flickering candlelight. She threw her wrap onto the low table by the corner and fell into a soft chair, head collapsing backwards onto her shoulders, eyes too heavy to keep open. Her expression was almost tragic.
Darcy followed her into the room, his face exultant despite his fatigue, and he pulled his finely tailored coat from his back, heedless of the lady sitting before him as he undressed. As he had ordered, a smoking jacket was awaiting him, and he slipped it over his shirtsleeves and waistcoat before tossing the frock coat over the back of the sofa onto which he fell. His actions were echoed by Richard, although the colonel chose not to undress before Elizabeth, electing to remain in his coat instead. His eyes were hooded with fatigue, his face devoid of all emotion.
“I say, Eliza, did you see where I left my slippers?” Darcy asked after a moment. “I had asked for them to be brought with my jacket, but they do not seem to be here.” He peered around the room, but did not exert himself enough to rise from the sofa on which he half-sat, half-reclined. “Richard? Have you seen them? No? Alas. Well, thank God that’s over!”
Lizzy started at these words but said nothing.
Richard roused himself to speak. “You were not nervous, were you, Darcy? I was, perhaps, for the first five minutes after the duke arrived, but Eliza seemed not nervous at all.”
“No, she was not nervous. Quite calm, I should say. But I am most relieved to have the whole thing done. Now we may wait and read of our tremendous success in the society pages, and revel in our accomplishment. Bravo, Richard, I could not have done it without you!”
The colonel straightened himself upon his chair, and nodded once, firmly. “It was indeed a great success, Fitz. You did it! Those long months of work, work, work, all paid off immensely. Ah, is that port? I could do with a tot.”
“Be a good girl and pour him some, Eliza.” Darcy’s voice was a study of indifference.
Too tired to argue, she rose from her chair and did as requested.
The colonel smirked, then extended a hand to take his port with barely a glance at Lizzy. “The congratulations all go to you, Darcy. Truly, a remarkable feat. Not a soul suspected she was anything other than a highborn lady, and they could not fall over their feet fast enough to guess whose daughter or niece she must be. The Earl of Flamborough? The Duke of Wallingford? Perhaps the Marquess of Picton!”
“What a joke that was! The only one who supposed anything other than the cream of the aristocracy was that nasty little man from Cambridge...”
“Your former professor, you said?”
“Indeed! I knew more than he after the first five minutes in his class! He thinks himself such an expert, he who announced in the hearing of the ambassador and the crown prince of whatever country that was, that she could not possibly be English because she was far too well spoken and her manners were too fine. She must, he declared, be a foreign princess! Hah! It was all I could do not to laugh and kiss her soundly then and there. Ah, a remarkable success, Richard. There is always something professional about doing a thing superlatively well.”
“You have won your bet, Darcy, and I shall happily pay up. Remarkable job!”
Through this dialogue between the men, Lizzy had been growing steadily more and more angry, but kept her peace. Neither gentleman so much as glanced her way, and neither seemed in the least inclined to compliment the lady herself on her remarkable efforts in the venture. She sank further back into the pillows of her chair, but her face grew tighter and tighter in its expression, and fire began to burn in her eyes.
Darcy took a drink from his glass and yawned deeply, not bothering to cover his mouth. “At last, I can go to bed without dreading tomorrow. This adventure was interesting at first, but after the first few months became an awful bore. Oh, the work on phonetics was fine enough, but there really was no true challenge. After that it was just repetition, repetition, repetition.” He rubbed his eyes. “Well, I ought to find my bed. Where on earth are my damned slippers?”
Neither Richard nor Lizzy commented on his oath as he searched the room once more with his eyes, but still made no effort to raise himself from his sofa.
“I must say, though, Richard, what is wrong with you tonight? You do not seem to revel in our success as you should. By all rights, you should be elated, not sulking.
“I am pleased enough, Fitz,” the colonel replied. “I had hoped Charlotte might attend, and I regretted not seeing her.” Darcy looked away and Lizzy caught his expression. She sat up a little. “I had asked Eliza to invite her, and when she refused the invitation, I rode to Meryton myself to ask her in person, but she would not even see me. I begged and pleaded, and all I received for my efforts were directions to the inn where I might get a pint of ale to refresh myself before turning back for Town.”
Lizzy was now most curious, and most concerned.
“She must,” glossed Darcy, still distracted by the search for his errant slippers, “have taken my words to heart then.”
At these words, the energy in the room changed dramatically, as Richard and Lizzy both turned their full attention to the professor.
“What did you mean by that, Darcy?” Richard’s voice was quiet and menacing; Lizzy could not suppress a gasp.
Darcy brushed off the question with a flick of his hand and attempted to sound unconcerned, but he must have realised he had misspoken. “I may have had a discussion with Miss Lucas before she returned to Meryton,” he said.
“What was the matter of the discussion?” Richard’s voice had lost its soft edge of fatigue and had taken on instead the crisp and undeniable tone of military authority. Even his cousin was forced to obey it.
“I may have suggested she return home,” was all he said.
“Darcy… what on earth have you done?” Richard was standing now, and in two strong steps he stood before his cousin as he lay on the sofa. “What did you say to her? I demand you tell me now!”
In a few sentences, Darcy described his interaction with Charlotte. “She does not love you, Richard. She merely wants your fortune and your name. I overheard her say as much to Eliza, whilst I was in my study at some business.”
Lizzy felt every ounce of fatigue drain away, her repressed anger surging to the forefront. “You heard incorrectly Professor Darcy!” she fairly shouted. These were her first words since entering the room, and the sound of her voice shocked the two men. “She never said a word to that effect, and you are most mistaken. If you had eavesdropped on the entire conversation, you would have heard her true expression: that she was talking about Jane, that she was so pleased that Mr. Bingley was able to see through Jane’s natural reserve and recognise her feelings, which she keeps so hidden from the world. Whatever you think of Charlotte, she is not the sort to string a man along thus. She is not romantic, it is true, but she would not mislead a suitor, and most particularly not one for whom she cares, even a small amount. How dare you imply such things about my friend?”
“And how dare you interfere in my life? Darcy! I now recall you tried to convince me to throw her off, and I refused. So this was your next tactic: to convince her to abandon me! I repeat: How dare you?” The walls were shaking with the sound of Richard’s voice; never had Lizzy heard him so angry.
“I thought only of you, Richard…”
“No. You thought only of yourself, Darcy….”
“As you did tonight,” Lizzy added, her rage not one bit abated. “You paraded me around like an exhibit in a zoo, showed me off to all the right people, waltzed me around the room, and then congratulated yourself on your fine performance. Well what about everybody else, Professor Darcy? What about me? I am the one who did all the work. I am the one who practiced my vowels, who recited poetry with stones in my mouth, who walked the corridors of your house with books stacked on my head to improve my posture. What about me? I don’t matter at all, I suppose! I won your bet for you after all!”
Darcy looked from Lizzy to Richard and back again, stunned at their reaction. “You matter? You won my bet? How impertinent! I won my bet. You should be pleased—see how well you will do in society now, thanks to me. Really, Eliza, you should run along to bed. You are tired and not thinking clearly. You will see things much better in the morning. Now where are those damned slippers?”
Lizzy looked down and saw the slippers sitting at the foot of the sofa upon which Darcy still sat. She picked them up and hurled them at him, one by one, hitting him quite squarely on the head. “There are your slippers. There, and there! Take your damned slippers and may you never have a day’s luck with them! I have never been so humiliated and so angry in all my life.” She turned, sobbing, and stumbled towards the door. Richard began to move as though he would go after her, but as he did so, the door opened and Freddy burst through.
“What in blazes is all this noise? I came…” He stopped short at the sight of Lizzy, her face red with anger and wet with tears, and he quickly discerned the source of her fury. “What have you done, Darcy? Shall I kill you now, or call you out? I’m a peer, don’t you forget that, and I can see you hang!” He turned back to Lizzy and with a gentleness he had never before shown, put an arm around her shoulders to guide her toward him. “Come, Miss Bennet, let me see you somewhere quiet, and as soon as you wish, I will take you to wherever you want to go.” He scowled once more at Darcy and led Lizzy from the room, allowing her to sob helplessly onto his chest.
~
Freddy was as good as his word. He guided Lizzy to her room, summoned her abigail, and instructed the girl to help Lizzy pack, should she wish it. The following day, after a fitful sleep, he personally drove Lizzy and all her belongings to the Gardiners’ house, where he stopped in—to the amazement of the neighbours—and waited until he was certain that Miss Bennet was comfortable, and until he had demanded of Mr. Gardiner to be informed the moment Lizzy made any decisions regarding her choice of abode, decisions to travel, or anything else more vital than what colour pelisse to wear with a certain gown.
“I shall not be denied this, sir,” he informed Mr. Gardiner in his most imperious tones. “I am a peer of the realm—one day to be Earl of Malton—and I have it within my power to ease your way in life or reduce you to nothing should you refuse me.” He stood up to his full height and puffed out his turquoise-clad chest. “Of course, I would never actually do that,” he added conspiratorially, “but I do like the effect it has on people when I so threaten. I do beseech you, sir, to keep me informed of Lizzy’s actions. I care frightfully for the girl.” Only then, satisfied at last by Gardiner’s agreement, based on the latter statement and not the former, did he leave the house, a hundred eyes from surrounding homes and gardens following his carriage as it departed the area.
Thus it transpired that three days later, when Lizzy had declared her intention to return to Longbourn, her uncle sent a message to the viscount, who responded by appearing in person at the house within the half day. He was ushered into the front drawing room by a rather flustered maid, and within moments he was joined by the lady of the house. It was now just past five in the evening, and Gardiner had not yet returned from his office at his place of business, but would most assuredly arrive momentarily. The viscount was offered, and accepted, some brandy and cakes whilst they waited. “We dine as soon as Mr. Gardiner returns,” Mrs. Gardiner explained, “and we would be most honoured if you would join us. Our cook is not, I am certain, of the quality of your own, but she provides us with hearty and excellent food, of which there is always plenty.”
To her surprise, her guest graciously agreed. This would be a tale for the neighbours! Within a few minutes, Mr. Gardiner returned, and Mrs. Gardiner informed the maid to have another place set at the table. When Lizzy was called to join the family for their meal, she found her aunt and uncle sitting in the salon, engaged in friendly and companionable conversation with their visitor. She stopped at the door, and immediately Freddy leapt up to greet her. “Eliza…” he whispered.
“Freddy.” He took her hands in his and kissed both of them. “I had not expected to see you here, of all places…”
“I could not leave you alone, Eliza. Is it true that you wish to return to your family?” He led her to a chair where they could talk quietly, far enough from her aunt and uncle that the conversation might remain private.
“I cannot stay in London. Not now, not after what he did. I cannot face seeing him, nor can I smile prettily at all those people who were there at the ball, and who now must know the truth…” She fought to keep the tears from her eyes. She could not even think of the embarrassment, the humiliation, that she must soon suffer. To have been feted as she was, celebrated as the Professor’s chosen bride, introduced by the Countess of Malton, and then the very next day to scuttle off into her corner, could only provoke the most unkind and salubrious gossip. She could not bear to imagine what the ladies, those very ones who had so recently clamoured for Darcy’s attention, must be saying about her in their spiteful ways. She knew enough of Caroline Bingley to imagine the direction of their thoughts. Anything else was too painful even to contemplate. And worse, no matter how bad the damage to her reputation, the damage to her heart was still more dire. The tears spilled down her cheeks, to be mopped up by Freddy’s lace-edged handkerchief. Her aunt and uncle pretended to see nothing.
“They know nothing, Eliza,” Freddy replied. “For all the ton is aware, you had a late night, a later morning, and are still sleeping off your success. If you have not been at my mother’s house to accept callers, it is due merely to exhaustion and nothing else. Please, stay, for my sake…”
“I cannot, Freddy, and you know it. The truth will out soon enough. How can I bear it?”
“Then allow me to drive you home. Whenever you wish to return, I shall be there with my carriage and a maid. What Richard could not do for Charlotte, I shall do for you.”
Lizzy looked up at him. He was a frivolous man, more concerned with his wardrobe than his estates, accustomed to being pampered and fawned over, but he was a good man, and at the moment, this was the one thing she needed most in the world: a friend. He asked nothing of her and offered her kindness and comfort. He could act the pompous viscount and brandish his name and rank about as a buccaneer does his sword, but he was at heart a sweet and honest man, with a generous heart and the willingness to put effort into his generosity. “Thank you, Freddy. I accept.”
A date was discussed and agreed upon by all involved, and plans were set underway.
Two days later, the viscount’s grand carriage was once again seen on Gracechurch Street, at the very break of day. Two of Gardiner’s strongest servants helped Freddy’s footmen stow the various trunks and valises onto the back of the conveyance, with an assurance that the remainder of Lizzy’s luggage would be sent for immediately, to be transported to Longbourn. Soon enough, the young lady pronounced herself ready, and with tearful goodbyes and promises to her young cousins, she allowed herself to be handed into the carriage. As promised, a maid was waiting in the interior to protect her name, and slowly, the carriage began to move through the busy streets of London. After nearly five months as Darcy’s student, she was leaving London. She was abandoning her scheme and the pompous and arrogant professor. She was going home.
“Old Brass Buttons?” A new voice responded. “Never seen him glum a day in his life, save for when his old dog died. Drank himself under the table that night, but never since. Still, not quite himself tonight, eh?”
“Never seen him like this,” responded the first voice. “Puts on a smile for the crowds and whatnot, but we’ve known him all his life. Something’s eating the old boy. Perhaps he’s been spending too much time with that prig of a cousin of his.”
“More likely crossed in love,” came a third voice. “Nothing puts a downer on a man’s face like that than losing his lady. Still… could be the cousin. He’s enough to sour anyone’s temper.”
At this point, Lizzy’s attention was required once more by the conversation of her own party, but she had to wonder. If Richard’s friends had noticed his mood, he must be quite out of sorts indeed.
Whatever had happened between Charlotte and the colonel, therefore, had not been of his doing, or at least, not intentionally so. Lizzy wished with all her being that she might succeed in her quest to discover from Charlotte what had occurred that she might set things to right, for the separation was clearly not Richard’s desire. He had even requested that Lizzy write a personal plea to invite Charlotte to the ball, which she had done, but her invitation was met with polite refusal. Neither the news of Jane and Charles’ presence, nor the offer of the Malton carriage to transport her to Town was enough to convince her to attend, and for that loss alone, Lizzy felt a pang of regret.
But the night was too magical to dwell on one friend, no matter how dear, and she let herself be swept away, like the girl from the cinders in that old French tale, until the last guests departed shortly before dawn.
The first rays of the new day were beginning to brighten the horizon when Darcy, Richard and Elizabeth finally staggered, exhausted, into the private parlour by Lizzy’s suite. A very tired footman had brought up a decanter of port and a pot of hot tea, for the three were far too excited by the whirlwind of the ball to take themselves off to sleep. There was too much to discuss, to many details to be examined, and Lizzy’s performance, her first public showing, must be analyzed, step by step, syllable by syllable.
She was the first to enter the room. Her lovely gown still hung in perfect folds from her white shoulders, her pearls and emeralds sparkled in the light, her hair retained its carefully pinned style, but her face was pale from her night of dancing, and her eyes shadowed in the flickering candlelight. She threw her wrap onto the low table by the corner and fell into a soft chair, head collapsing backwards onto her shoulders, eyes too heavy to keep open. Her expression was almost tragic.
Darcy followed her into the room, his face exultant despite his fatigue, and he pulled his finely tailored coat from his back, heedless of the lady sitting before him as he undressed. As he had ordered, a smoking jacket was awaiting him, and he slipped it over his shirtsleeves and waistcoat before tossing the frock coat over the back of the sofa onto which he fell. His actions were echoed by Richard, although the colonel chose not to undress before Elizabeth, electing to remain in his coat instead. His eyes were hooded with fatigue, his face devoid of all emotion.
“I say, Eliza, did you see where I left my slippers?” Darcy asked after a moment. “I had asked for them to be brought with my jacket, but they do not seem to be here.” He peered around the room, but did not exert himself enough to rise from the sofa on which he half-sat, half-reclined. “Richard? Have you seen them? No? Alas. Well, thank God that’s over!”
Lizzy started at these words but said nothing.
Richard roused himself to speak. “You were not nervous, were you, Darcy? I was, perhaps, for the first five minutes after the duke arrived, but Eliza seemed not nervous at all.”
“No, she was not nervous. Quite calm, I should say. But I am most relieved to have the whole thing done. Now we may wait and read of our tremendous success in the society pages, and revel in our accomplishment. Bravo, Richard, I could not have done it without you!”
The colonel straightened himself upon his chair, and nodded once, firmly. “It was indeed a great success, Fitz. You did it! Those long months of work, work, work, all paid off immensely. Ah, is that port? I could do with a tot.”
“Be a good girl and pour him some, Eliza.” Darcy’s voice was a study of indifference.
Too tired to argue, she rose from her chair and did as requested.
The colonel smirked, then extended a hand to take his port with barely a glance at Lizzy. “The congratulations all go to you, Darcy. Truly, a remarkable feat. Not a soul suspected she was anything other than a highborn lady, and they could not fall over their feet fast enough to guess whose daughter or niece she must be. The Earl of Flamborough? The Duke of Wallingford? Perhaps the Marquess of Picton!”
“What a joke that was! The only one who supposed anything other than the cream of the aristocracy was that nasty little man from Cambridge...”
“Your former professor, you said?”
“Indeed! I knew more than he after the first five minutes in his class! He thinks himself such an expert, he who announced in the hearing of the ambassador and the crown prince of whatever country that was, that she could not possibly be English because she was far too well spoken and her manners were too fine. She must, he declared, be a foreign princess! Hah! It was all I could do not to laugh and kiss her soundly then and there. Ah, a remarkable success, Richard. There is always something professional about doing a thing superlatively well.”
“You have won your bet, Darcy, and I shall happily pay up. Remarkable job!”
Through this dialogue between the men, Lizzy had been growing steadily more and more angry, but kept her peace. Neither gentleman so much as glanced her way, and neither seemed in the least inclined to compliment the lady herself on her remarkable efforts in the venture. She sank further back into the pillows of her chair, but her face grew tighter and tighter in its expression, and fire began to burn in her eyes.
Darcy took a drink from his glass and yawned deeply, not bothering to cover his mouth. “At last, I can go to bed without dreading tomorrow. This adventure was interesting at first, but after the first few months became an awful bore. Oh, the work on phonetics was fine enough, but there really was no true challenge. After that it was just repetition, repetition, repetition.” He rubbed his eyes. “Well, I ought to find my bed. Where on earth are my damned slippers?”
Neither Richard nor Lizzy commented on his oath as he searched the room once more with his eyes, but still made no effort to raise himself from his sofa.
“I must say, though, Richard, what is wrong with you tonight? You do not seem to revel in our success as you should. By all rights, you should be elated, not sulking.
“I am pleased enough, Fitz,” the colonel replied. “I had hoped Charlotte might attend, and I regretted not seeing her.” Darcy looked away and Lizzy caught his expression. She sat up a little. “I had asked Eliza to invite her, and when she refused the invitation, I rode to Meryton myself to ask her in person, but she would not even see me. I begged and pleaded, and all I received for my efforts were directions to the inn where I might get a pint of ale to refresh myself before turning back for Town.”
Lizzy was now most curious, and most concerned.
“She must,” glossed Darcy, still distracted by the search for his errant slippers, “have taken my words to heart then.”
At these words, the energy in the room changed dramatically, as Richard and Lizzy both turned their full attention to the professor.
“What did you mean by that, Darcy?” Richard’s voice was quiet and menacing; Lizzy could not suppress a gasp.
Darcy brushed off the question with a flick of his hand and attempted to sound unconcerned, but he must have realised he had misspoken. “I may have had a discussion with Miss Lucas before she returned to Meryton,” he said.
“What was the matter of the discussion?” Richard’s voice had lost its soft edge of fatigue and had taken on instead the crisp and undeniable tone of military authority. Even his cousin was forced to obey it.
“I may have suggested she return home,” was all he said.
“Darcy… what on earth have you done?” Richard was standing now, and in two strong steps he stood before his cousin as he lay on the sofa. “What did you say to her? I demand you tell me now!”
In a few sentences, Darcy described his interaction with Charlotte. “She does not love you, Richard. She merely wants your fortune and your name. I overheard her say as much to Eliza, whilst I was in my study at some business.”
Lizzy felt every ounce of fatigue drain away, her repressed anger surging to the forefront. “You heard incorrectly Professor Darcy!” she fairly shouted. These were her first words since entering the room, and the sound of her voice shocked the two men. “She never said a word to that effect, and you are most mistaken. If you had eavesdropped on the entire conversation, you would have heard her true expression: that she was talking about Jane, that she was so pleased that Mr. Bingley was able to see through Jane’s natural reserve and recognise her feelings, which she keeps so hidden from the world. Whatever you think of Charlotte, she is not the sort to string a man along thus. She is not romantic, it is true, but she would not mislead a suitor, and most particularly not one for whom she cares, even a small amount. How dare you imply such things about my friend?”
“And how dare you interfere in my life? Darcy! I now recall you tried to convince me to throw her off, and I refused. So this was your next tactic: to convince her to abandon me! I repeat: How dare you?” The walls were shaking with the sound of Richard’s voice; never had Lizzy heard him so angry.
“I thought only of you, Richard…”
“No. You thought only of yourself, Darcy….”
“As you did tonight,” Lizzy added, her rage not one bit abated. “You paraded me around like an exhibit in a zoo, showed me off to all the right people, waltzed me around the room, and then congratulated yourself on your fine performance. Well what about everybody else, Professor Darcy? What about me? I am the one who did all the work. I am the one who practiced my vowels, who recited poetry with stones in my mouth, who walked the corridors of your house with books stacked on my head to improve my posture. What about me? I don’t matter at all, I suppose! I won your bet for you after all!”
Darcy looked from Lizzy to Richard and back again, stunned at their reaction. “You matter? You won my bet? How impertinent! I won my bet. You should be pleased—see how well you will do in society now, thanks to me. Really, Eliza, you should run along to bed. You are tired and not thinking clearly. You will see things much better in the morning. Now where are those damned slippers?”
Lizzy looked down and saw the slippers sitting at the foot of the sofa upon which Darcy still sat. She picked them up and hurled them at him, one by one, hitting him quite squarely on the head. “There are your slippers. There, and there! Take your damned slippers and may you never have a day’s luck with them! I have never been so humiliated and so angry in all my life.” She turned, sobbing, and stumbled towards the door. Richard began to move as though he would go after her, but as he did so, the door opened and Freddy burst through.
“What in blazes is all this noise? I came…” He stopped short at the sight of Lizzy, her face red with anger and wet with tears, and he quickly discerned the source of her fury. “What have you done, Darcy? Shall I kill you now, or call you out? I’m a peer, don’t you forget that, and I can see you hang!” He turned back to Lizzy and with a gentleness he had never before shown, put an arm around her shoulders to guide her toward him. “Come, Miss Bennet, let me see you somewhere quiet, and as soon as you wish, I will take you to wherever you want to go.” He scowled once more at Darcy and led Lizzy from the room, allowing her to sob helplessly onto his chest.
~
Freddy was as good as his word. He guided Lizzy to her room, summoned her abigail, and instructed the girl to help Lizzy pack, should she wish it. The following day, after a fitful sleep, he personally drove Lizzy and all her belongings to the Gardiners’ house, where he stopped in—to the amazement of the neighbours—and waited until he was certain that Miss Bennet was comfortable, and until he had demanded of Mr. Gardiner to be informed the moment Lizzy made any decisions regarding her choice of abode, decisions to travel, or anything else more vital than what colour pelisse to wear with a certain gown.
“I shall not be denied this, sir,” he informed Mr. Gardiner in his most imperious tones. “I am a peer of the realm—one day to be Earl of Malton—and I have it within my power to ease your way in life or reduce you to nothing should you refuse me.” He stood up to his full height and puffed out his turquoise-clad chest. “Of course, I would never actually do that,” he added conspiratorially, “but I do like the effect it has on people when I so threaten. I do beseech you, sir, to keep me informed of Lizzy’s actions. I care frightfully for the girl.” Only then, satisfied at last by Gardiner’s agreement, based on the latter statement and not the former, did he leave the house, a hundred eyes from surrounding homes and gardens following his carriage as it departed the area.
Thus it transpired that three days later, when Lizzy had declared her intention to return to Longbourn, her uncle sent a message to the viscount, who responded by appearing in person at the house within the half day. He was ushered into the front drawing room by a rather flustered maid, and within moments he was joined by the lady of the house. It was now just past five in the evening, and Gardiner had not yet returned from his office at his place of business, but would most assuredly arrive momentarily. The viscount was offered, and accepted, some brandy and cakes whilst they waited. “We dine as soon as Mr. Gardiner returns,” Mrs. Gardiner explained, “and we would be most honoured if you would join us. Our cook is not, I am certain, of the quality of your own, but she provides us with hearty and excellent food, of which there is always plenty.”
To her surprise, her guest graciously agreed. This would be a tale for the neighbours! Within a few minutes, Mr. Gardiner returned, and Mrs. Gardiner informed the maid to have another place set at the table. When Lizzy was called to join the family for their meal, she found her aunt and uncle sitting in the salon, engaged in friendly and companionable conversation with their visitor. She stopped at the door, and immediately Freddy leapt up to greet her. “Eliza…” he whispered.
“Freddy.” He took her hands in his and kissed both of them. “I had not expected to see you here, of all places…”
“I could not leave you alone, Eliza. Is it true that you wish to return to your family?” He led her to a chair where they could talk quietly, far enough from her aunt and uncle that the conversation might remain private.
“I cannot stay in London. Not now, not after what he did. I cannot face seeing him, nor can I smile prettily at all those people who were there at the ball, and who now must know the truth…” She fought to keep the tears from her eyes. She could not even think of the embarrassment, the humiliation, that she must soon suffer. To have been feted as she was, celebrated as the Professor’s chosen bride, introduced by the Countess of Malton, and then the very next day to scuttle off into her corner, could only provoke the most unkind and salubrious gossip. She could not bear to imagine what the ladies, those very ones who had so recently clamoured for Darcy’s attention, must be saying about her in their spiteful ways. She knew enough of Caroline Bingley to imagine the direction of their thoughts. Anything else was too painful even to contemplate. And worse, no matter how bad the damage to her reputation, the damage to her heart was still more dire. The tears spilled down her cheeks, to be mopped up by Freddy’s lace-edged handkerchief. Her aunt and uncle pretended to see nothing.
“They know nothing, Eliza,” Freddy replied. “For all the ton is aware, you had a late night, a later morning, and are still sleeping off your success. If you have not been at my mother’s house to accept callers, it is due merely to exhaustion and nothing else. Please, stay, for my sake…”
“I cannot, Freddy, and you know it. The truth will out soon enough. How can I bear it?”
“Then allow me to drive you home. Whenever you wish to return, I shall be there with my carriage and a maid. What Richard could not do for Charlotte, I shall do for you.”
Lizzy looked up at him. He was a frivolous man, more concerned with his wardrobe than his estates, accustomed to being pampered and fawned over, but he was a good man, and at the moment, this was the one thing she needed most in the world: a friend. He asked nothing of her and offered her kindness and comfort. He could act the pompous viscount and brandish his name and rank about as a buccaneer does his sword, but he was at heart a sweet and honest man, with a generous heart and the willingness to put effort into his generosity. “Thank you, Freddy. I accept.”
A date was discussed and agreed upon by all involved, and plans were set underway.
Two days later, the viscount’s grand carriage was once again seen on Gracechurch Street, at the very break of day. Two of Gardiner’s strongest servants helped Freddy’s footmen stow the various trunks and valises onto the back of the conveyance, with an assurance that the remainder of Lizzy’s luggage would be sent for immediately, to be transported to Longbourn. Soon enough, the young lady pronounced herself ready, and with tearful goodbyes and promises to her young cousins, she allowed herself to be handed into the carriage. As promised, a maid was waiting in the interior to protect her name, and slowly, the carriage began to move through the busy streets of London. After nearly five months as Darcy’s student, she was leaving London. She was abandoning her scheme and the pompous and arrogant professor. She was going home.
