Pride and Pursuit: A Pride and Prejudice Variation, page 6
When he spoke aloud again, it was with all appropriate words and a firmer tone. “I beg you to accept my deepest sympathies on your present concerns, and my best wishes for a speedy and happy resolution. I wish to be of use. Any assistance I might offer is yours. What can I do? I know people in Town, could engage a Runner. Command me.”
So sincere was his appeal, so sympathetic his presence, that there was no motion to evict him from this fraught family gathering, and instead of making for his own gig and leaving the Bennets to commiserate alone, he remained, muttering suggestions and offering words of comfort, his eyes flickering towards Jane perhaps more often than was entirely suitable under the circumstances.
She did not object.
Mr Bingley listened with an attentive ear, leapt up to pour the tea, offered to fetch and carry whatever the family wanted. He was kind, and whilst Jane would otherwise be horrified to share such private misery with a stranger, his company was undemanding and comforting amidst the weeping and helpless lamenting.
Thus it was that he was present when, a half an hour later, there came a loud knock at the front door, followed shortly by the hurried entry of Mrs Hill with a note in her grip.
“An express, Sir, and from Miss Elizabeth, herself.” She thrust her hand out to Papa, who grabbed the envelope as if his life depended upon it.
“Oh, thank the heavens! She is alive!” Mama exclaimed, and the room was all at once filled with similar expressions of relief and gratitude. “What does it say, Mr Bennet? Where is she? Does she come? Why is she so delayed? Read it aloud.”
No one asked Mr Bingley to leave, nor did he offer, but he sat there near Jane, looking most intent and concerned, as her father read the note.
“It is dated this very afternoon, only two hours past,” he began as he scanned the top of the note. “Here is what she writes.”
Papa, I must be brief. I am well and unharmed, but I do not know when I will be returned home. Our carriage was taken by a man claiming a desperate need to escape a foe pursuing him, in fear of his very life. He promises every attempt to return it when he is safe and is adamant that he knew not that I was inside. He professes to be a gentleman and is not unkind. Not only has he permitted me to send this missive, but has paid for its cost as well. I can only hope his claims are true. I shall remain here for the night, where I have taken a good room. I hope to get the coach tomorrow to St. Albans, and then shall engage a driver to return me home.
Should something transpire that disturbs these plans, my unwitting abductor has mentioned a possible destination in the north of Wales, somewhere near Llangollen. He has given his name as Will Darcy, with an estate in Derbyshire. Perhaps you can inquire about his character in London, where he claims to have friends and family. May it please God that I am in your embrace before long.
Your loving daughter Elizabeth.
He glanced through the letter again before folding it and placing it in a pocket. His countenance, recently so fierce, was now returned to its habitual mild indifference.
“There we have it, Mrs Bennet. Our Lizzy is, or was until an hour or two ago, quite well, and we need no longer concern ourselves with this matter. It will be a great adventure for her, and she will entertain us all with her harrowing tales for weeks on end. Shall we now discuss the upcoming assembly, or peruse the latest magazines to determine whether short or long sleeves are the fashion? I, for one, enjoy Latin texts more than Greek.”
“Oh, Mr Bennet! How you vex me!” Mama wailed, bringing a lace-encrusted handkerchief to her face. “Kitty, do you have my salts?”
“Very well, my dear. Let us, instead, see to the express rider’s needs, and then I shall send somebody to London at once to make inquiries after this fellow. Darcy, she said. Yes. That is the name.” He looked at his company, his eyes resting on his guest.
“Mr Bingley, what is that expression on your face? You look quite like a bird who has flown into a window.”
Jane turned to look at him, and indeed, their new neighbour did indeed sport a most peculiar mien, eyes wide with shock, jaw loose in amazement.
He blinked his large brown eyes and shook his head, as if to clarify what he had heard. “Darcy? Did you say Will Darcy? No! It cannot be. I know him well, if it is indeed he. Fitzwilliam Darcy is quite the last man in the world I could imagine doing such a thing. Absconding with another man’s carriage? Abducting his daughter? Quite unimaginable! He is a close friend, a man I trust implicitly. I have invited him to spend the autumn with me at Netherfield as my guest. Darcy! I can hardly account for it.”
Jane’s papa frowned. “Could this person who has my Lizzy be using your friend’s name? The man you describe hardly sounds the sort to be running for his life from some unnamed enemy.”
Unaccountably, Mr Bingley laughed. “My friend, I am afraid, causes offence wherever he goes, through no intent of his own. His manner can seem cold and haughty. But to occasion a nemesis, to infuriate someone who would cause him to flee in another man’s carriage? No, not he… unless…” He tilted his head for a moment and screwed up his forehead in recollection. “I did not know Darcy as a youth, but he has spoken more than once of someone from his childhood in Derbyshire, a man who harbours considerable grudges against him. When last we spoke about this man, Darcy had refused him some unreasonable demand, and received threats in response. It could be.” He raised a hand to his face and gnawed at a knuckle.
“Will he harm my Lizzy?” Jane’s mama sat forward, hands wringing the handkerchief she grasped. “Is he the sort to be cruel to a lady?”
Bingley looked affronted. “Darcy? No, ma’am. Impossible. Quite the opposite. Your daughter is quite safe with him. If it is, indeed, he who has taken her.” The young man frowned again, fine eyebrows wrinkling under his sandy-brown mop of hair. Then, with a start, he let out an exclamation. “Now listen. I am acquainted to some degree with his relations, most especially his cousin, who is a colonel in the Regulars. I believe him to be in London at this moment. If there is anybody to know where Darcy might be going in Wales, it will be the colonel. It is almost dark now, too late to travel, but I shall set off at first light and ride to London myself to seek an audience with him. In the meantime, I shall instruct my staff to have the carriage ready, should we wish to travel to this location, wherever it is, if Miss Elizabeth does not return as expected. With luck, I will be back at this time tomorrow and will be able to meet her in this very room.”
“You are most kind, sir,” Jane’s father bowed.
Bingley’s eyes caressed Jane once more. “Anything for… for a neighbour.” He gave her a half smile, and she felt herself responding likewise. There was no harm in being friendly to a helpful neighbour, after all, and with Lizzy all but certainly safe.
“Mr Bingley,” she replied.
Their gazes met and lingered.
Then, as is a spell were suddenly broken, he snapped a bow and made for the door, promising to return as soon as possible.
CHAPTER 6
An Alteration in Circumstances
The sun’s last rays filtered through thick trees as the carriage rolled down a long drive. The horses were slow; they were clearly tired and ready for a good rest, and Elizabeth hoped such would be available to them. Will insisted he could provide this, and Elizabeth had no choice but to trust him.
“Where are we going?” she asked for the fourth time in the last ten minutes.
“Milden Hall is the estate of a school friend. We have since grown apart to some degree, but when I was younger, after my mother died, I spent some school holidays with the family. They were very kind to me, and I hold them in affection. I believe Sir Nicholas is still alive. He will remember me. He and my own father were friends from childhood.”
The drive swung around a final curve and opened up into a sweep before a large modern house. Built of yellow stone with tall Palladian columns, its proportions were clean and pleasing to the eye. A servant in livery rushed towards them, questions on his face.
“Are we expecting company? Who are your people?” He clearly thought Will was a servant, which, to judge by the man’s clothing, was an understandable assumption. Will’s face went still and stony, and Elizabeth had to remind him of his circumstances.
“Your clothing, Will,” she whispered. “You hardly look the gentleman.”
The stony visage eased, and a friendlier expression replaced it, though Elizabeth still heard the echoes of the insult in Will’s voice.
“You must be new. My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I am a friend of Mr Julian Strand. My father and Sir Nicholas were likewise acquainted, and I hoped to speak to one of these fine men, should he be available.”
Fitzwilliam? Had he given her that name when he introduced himself earlier? Yes, she vaguely recalled, he had, but all she had heard was the familiar Will, to suit his bedraggled appearance. Much like this man in livery. They all had their prejudices, so it seemed.
The servant did not quite sneer at them, but neither did he throw open the gates and welcome them inside. His eyes travelled up Will’s filthy body, but stopped when they met his glare. Only someone with a lofty pedigree—or his valet—could achieve so imperious a regard. After a moment, the man condescended to reply.
“Sorry, sir. Neither is at home.”
Will’s jaw tightened. “And what of Mrs Abbot, the housekeeper? Is she still at her duties?”
The servant’s eyes widened a touch. This seemed to be the password he required. “Yes, sir. If you wish to wait inside, I shall see if she is available. Freddy?” the servant called towards some outbuildings. “See to the carriage.”
Will leapt down and held out his hand to assist Elizabeth’s descent from the box. She placed her own hand in his, and he held it securely for a moment longer than necessary, giving her a squeeze of reassurance. His grip was warm and comforting, something familiar by now in the midst of a day of turmoil.
Freddy came to look after the horses, and Elizabeth followed Will and the servant into the front hall of the grand house.
“Wait here.” A footman stepped out from an alcove to ensure they obeyed and ventured no further into the house.
They had been there for no more than five minutes when a diminutive lady with the air of a duchess rounded a corner from some unseen room. Only the chatelaine at her waist indicated that this was the housekeeper and not the mistress of the estate, such was her demeanour. Her eyes were wary at first and she opened her mouth in what looked like the beginnings of a protest, but she took one look at Will and a smile broke her stern expression.
“As I live and breathe, it is Master Fitzwilliam! Or rather, Mr Darcy now, I should say.”
If Elizabeth had any remaining reservations about Will’s true identity, Mrs Abbot’s greeting put them firmly to rest. She had no time to speak, however, for the housekeeper went on.
“Goodness gracious, Mr Darcy, how you have grown. I have not seen you since you were a lad of seventeen. You have put on two inches since, I do believe, and you were a tall boy even then. I was most sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man, and we all miss him. Sir Nicholas talks of him to this very day. Well, well, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and dressed like that! Won’t Master Julian be sorry to have missed you. How can I help you, young man?”
Will greeted the housekeeper in words equally effusive and then stepped back to introduce Elizabeth.
“Unfortunate circumstances, the details of which I will not bother you with at the moment, have forced us to travel together for a time. We were hoping for accommodation for the night, and a rest for our team. They have travelled long and hard today.”
Mrs Abbot examined Elizabeth as if she were a questionable piece of cabbage.
“Miss Bennet is sadly embroiled in my misfortunes,” Will added, when the housekeeper’s regard did not soften.
“We only have one room made up for guests…” Mrs Abbot began.
Elizabeth dropped into her best curtsey. “Thank you, ma’am. I would be comfortable in a maid’s room, if necessary. I do not wish to cause trouble.”
The housekeeper’s face cleared up. Elizabeth had passed some unknown test. “That will not be necessary. A sweet girl, you seem, and well spoken. I can have the maids prepare one of the smaller rooms for you whilst you dine. We were not expecting company, but Cook can prepare something simple, if that is acceptable. Some stew, and fresh bread and cheese.”
Will raised his eyebrows at Elizabeth in question, and she gave him a subtle nod.
“Thank you, Mrs Abbot. That will be exceedingly welcome. Please convey our gratitude to Cook.”
The housekeeper beckoned them to follow her into a compact sitting room at the back of the house and bade them sit. “Somebody will call you when your meal is ready. I shall see to your rooms and ensure the horses are tended to and the carriage secured. Have you trunks?”
Elizabeth looked down at herself in sudden mortification. What must she look like? Her travelling gown was chosen for comfort, rather than elegance, and it was now covered with all the dust of the road and the disarray born from her attempted attack on Mr Darcy. No wonder the housekeeper had taken her for a doxy, if not something worse.
“Yes, there is a trunk at the back of the carriage. I thank you.”
But Will just stared at the housekeeper in horror. “I, it pains me to say, have only the clothes on my back.”
And as much as Elizabeth must look a fright, how much worse was poor Will, with his torn and still-filthy clothing and no opportunity to change.
Mrs Abbot shook her head and clucked at him. “You poor boy! I must have this story, for I cannot imagine what has brought you to this. Very well. Let me look through the stores. I cannot dress you as a gentleman ought to be dressed, but perhaps I can find something clean in your size. You both sit a spell, until I return.”
Off she went, brisk and efficient as any good housekeeper could be, leaving Elizabeth and Will to themselves before the welcome fire.
“What do we do now?” Elizabeth asked once the door was closed. “How long do we stay here?”
Will collapsed into the embrace of the armchair he had taken, his head thrown back on his shoulders, eyes closed. He looked exhausted, as well he must be. If his story was true, and Elizabeth now believed him, he had been awake since well before dawn, and had not had an easy day. He still smelled somewhat of the muck cart despite his hurried wash at the farm, and the shadows under his eyes echoed the dark stubble that shaded his cheeks and chin.
“Tonight, at least. I cannot embroil Mrs Abbot and my friend’s home in my plight, but I shall lay it all before her and ask her counsel. One does not attain the position of housekeeper to such a place without a great deal of intelligence and common sense. If I can apprise my cousin of our circumstances, if we can stay until he arrives with help, it might do. I have not had a moment to think further than surviving the next mile. Perchance Mrs Abbot will see me to some paper and ink so I can write to him.” He let out a soft groan. “Yes, with her agreement, we stay for tonight, at least.”
He fell silent, and Elizabeth was content to let him rest against the back of the chair. She, too, closed her eyes. It was pleasant to sit upon a soft surface that did not jolt and bump, and a rush of fatigue engulfed her. She allowed her thoughts to drift.
How long she sat thus before there came a scratch at the door, she could not say, but when she sat up, a young maid stood before her. “If you please, Miss, there is a bath ready if you wish it.” The maid looked at Will, who seemed to be sleeping in his chair. “Ned will be by for him in a moment. Follow me, Miss Bennet, if you will.”
The maid led her to a small bathing room near the back of the house where a large copper tub steamed. “Shall I attend you, Miss? I can take your clothes to clean them. Here is a robe, until you select your garments for later.”
It was the most welcome bath Elizabeth had ever had, and only the soft murmurings of the maid behind the screen prevented her from falling asleep once more in the lightly scented water. She did not even object to being wrapped in a soft, if old, robe afterwards and bustled down a hallway and up a flight of stairs to a bedchamber looking over the gardens behind the house. Her trunk was there, and she selected a simple gown for dinner.
Will was waiting for her in the breakfast room, where they were to dine. He, too, had bathed and changed, and now wore the simple clothing of a farmer. But the clothing was clean and in good condition, and his eyes were clearer than they had been earlier. He had also shaved, and once more, Elizabeth was struck by his handsome features. In this instance, it appears, clothes did not make the man.
Mrs Abbot was with him, and from the few words Elizabeth heard, he had apprised her of their unfortunate situation.
“Run off with the carriage, and the girl with it? Tut, tut, Mr Darcy. Master Julian will never believe this! Still, I remember George Wickham. That one was trouble. So handsome and charming, but beneath it, I always thought there was something untoward, and the tales I heard from the young maids!”
It seemed, then, that Will’s tale was corroborated once more. Whether this was comforting or not, Elizabeth could not decide. The housekeeper was still shaking her head about Mr Wickham.
“I am sorry he has turned out so wild. I had hoped he might turn himself around.”
Mrs Abbot clucked her disapproval, before ensuring that Elizabeth had all she needed for the night. They conversed for only a minute, until the food arrived, at which point she bid them both a good night and slipped out the door.
The meal that arrived was simple but tasty, and they ate in relative silence, both choosing to retire almost immediately afterwards. There would be plenty of time to talk on the morrow as they waited for help. Will repeated his intention to send a letter to his cousin at first light, and Elizabeth agreed that another missive to her family would do well to assure them as to her wellbeing. But those would both wait. For now, all Elizabeth wanted was sleep, and the bed in her chamber promised a pleasant night after a rather horrid day. She found her way back to her room, changed into her night rail, lay her head on the soft pillow, and knew nothing more.
