Alliance and the Artifice of War 41-50
Chapter Forty-one — In which betrothals are shared
Darcy
The group of conspirators had not met on the morning following the ball, so, missing Miss Elizabeth, Darcy knocked Longbourn’s kitchen door early that afternoon.
He was admitted by Mrs Hill to find that Miss Mary was absent and Miss Elizabeth sobbing.
Immediately, Darcy hurried to crouch before her. “Are you unwell, Miss Elizabeth?”
“No, I thank you,” she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. “There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I am only overcome by some marvellous news which I have just received from Kitty.” She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could not speak another word.
Darcy, in uncertain suspense, could only say something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in puzzled silence.
At length she spoke again. “I have just shared with Mrs Baker; wonderful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. ‘Darling’ Lydia has eloped; has thrown herself into the carriage of Mr Wickham. They are gone off together last night. Oh, Mr Darcy! she is gone at last!” Clutching his sleeve, she grinned at him.
Open mouthed, he stared back at her. Her tears were not of sadness, but of joy.
“Mr Darcy! You promised to find a redcoat who would elope with ‘darling’ Lydia and you did.” She squeezed his arm. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Indeed, but your gratitude is misplaced. Steven’s gossip has brought this about.”
“For shame, Mr Darcy. You selected the redcoats; you must share in the glory.”
“Very well, you will force me to put up with having the smallest credit of it, which goes sorely against the grain.” He stood and settled himself at her invitation. Mrs Hill put a cup of tea before him. “Are they gone to Scotland?”
“I know no more than I have told you, but assume so. Do you think that he believed Mr Stevens’ gossip?”
“She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him other than the lure of becoming the Master of Longbourn.”
Darcy had forgotten the presence of Mrs Hill and the cook; the latter’s interjection made him start.
“I tol’ Missy Lizzy, that I int stayin’ wiv such a man as master.” She waved her rolling pin at them. “Not that Mister Bingley, nor that Ensun Wickham.”
Elizabeth snorted, and turned to address Mrs Baker, “You are quite safe, Cook. Ensign Wickham will not be Master of Longbourn.”
Darcy asked, “Why do you call him ‘Ensign?’ Is he not a lieutenant?”
“Despise me if you dare, but I confess to succumbing to temptation earlier.”
His reply, “I could never despise you,” drew blushes to her cheeks.
“The second Mrs Bennet asked me what ‘dear’ Wickham’s first name is—”
“— and, as bold as brass, Miss Lizzy said ‘Ensign, Ensign Wickham!’” Mrs Hill interjected.
“Oh,” said Miss Elizabeth. “I really could not help it; the words just popped out!”
He joined them in their laughter.
When their cups were refilled, he asked, “Have you heard of Bingley’s announcements at the ball, last night?”
“No, we have not. ‘Darling’ Lydia has eloped, the second Mrs Bennet is vacillating between throes of ecstasy and acute disappointment, and ‘darling’ Jane has not yet arisen.”
“‘Disappointment?’”
“Yes, she had thought to elope with ‘darling’ Lydia and the redcoat and is unhappy to have been left behind.”
“Elope with one’s mother; I never heard of such a thing.” He paused to consider the dampening effect of a prospective mother-in-law on such a venture. “You may not have heard of Bingley’s news: he announced both his engagement to Miss Bennet and Miss Bingley’s to Lord-Lineley.”
Miss Elizabeth’s beautiful mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise. “Oh my! Oh my! That is marvellous, marvellous.”
“That baron dint want a skinny lass liken me, then?”
Jumping to her feet to hug the cook, Miss Elizabeth said, “Oh, never mind, dear Mrs Baker. Never mind.”
Chapter Forty-two — In which another quid pro quo is suggested
Elizabeth
Later in the afternoon, after Mr Darcy had departed, Ned came to the kitchen and handed Elizabeth a sealed note.
“Who is this from?” she asked him.
Ned shrugged. “’Twere on the back step, miss.”
Elizabeth did not recognise the writing, so broke the seal cautiously.
‘Miss Bennet — I must speak with you on the matter of the ownership of Longbourn. I have been allowed the use of the small parlour at Lucas Lodge this afternoon from four o’clock. — Paul Phillips’
She gasped. Oh my!
So many thoughts, but her mind emptied of coherence. She could not think of any words from Sun Tzu — nothing, not a word.
Think for yourself, Lizzy Bennet!
She took in a deep breath and blew it out again.
Look carefully!
He had addressed her by her proper title. I, not Jane, am ‘Miss Bennet.’
He mentioned Longbourn’s ownership. I cannot infer anything of use from that.
He had suggested that they met at Lucas Lodge, not at Longbourn and not at his offices. Why?
Mm. I would be seen going to his office and his wife would be sure to gossip.
Mm. He would be seen coming here to Longbourn and his sister would be sure to gossip.
Lucas Lodge allows us to meet away from prying eyes. Huh, other than Sir William and his wife.
Mm. ‘… have been allowed the use of …’ Who has allowed the use?
Mm. Can I assume that it is Charlotte? Her father is too likely to speak of it if he knows.
She looked at the clock. Hmph, half past three, no time to enquire of Charlotte.
What does he want?
There was but one way to find out. As she locked the book-room door behind her, she paused. Ought she to go alone or to ask Mary to join her?
No, Mary was attending the second Mrs Bennet, trying to keep the news of ‘darling’ Lydia’s elopement within the walls of Longbourn until Mr Bingley had signed the settlement papers for his own marriage to ‘darling’ Jane. They must not risk a scandal.
Elizabeth took her bonnet and her satchel and set off for Lucas Lodge.
As she approached the front door, it opened to reveal Charlotte. That answered one of her questions. Charlotte answered some of those unspoken:
“My family have gone to Hatfield for the afternoon. Mr Phillips is waiting. I shall bring tea and sit with you.”
Elizabeth released a sigh of relief and followed Charlotte to the small parlour. Mr Phillips was standing by the empty fireplace and turned to bow. She nodded in return. Charlotte joined them almost immediately and, after pouring tea, sat next to Elizabeth.
“Read this,” Mr Phillips said, handing a letter to Elizabeth, and taking his own seat.
Elizabeth had had few meetings with the local attorney and had forgotten how terse he could be. She held the paper so that Charlotte could also read it.
‘Sir — I shall return wed to Miss Lydia of Longbourn a fortnight hence and shall claim her rightful inheritance. — George Wickham’
“Mr Wickham demands his wife’s inheritance.” She could be terse too.
“Gossip at Goat: first wed gets Longbourn.”
“Not my gossip, sir.”
“Convenient, Miss Bennet.”
“In what way?”
He stared at her. She stared back.
“Longbourn yours, a year and a month hence.”
“If that were true, Mr Wickham can hope only for Lydia’s share of your sister’s portion.”
He stared at her. She stared back.
“Do you have a shilling, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth immediately took umbrage. “Is this your scheme, to demand money from me?”
Charlotte’s hand on her own stayed her.
“No, employ me.”
“I already have a lawyer for Longbourn’s business, sir!”
“Yours, not Longbourn’s.”
Elizabeth felt that she was in treacle and could not understand his meaning.
Charlotte murmured in her ear, “If Mr Phillips was employed by you, then he cannot work for Mr Bingley.”
The scales fell from Elizabeth’s eyes; clarity! “But what if someone else gave you more than a shilling?”
He stared at her. She stared back.
He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “No room for sister nor nieces.”
“Go on, Mr Phillips. Go on.” Elizabeth was curious.
“Bingley and Wickham believe gossip. Both think to have Longbourn.”
“But, if want you say is true, they are incorrect.”
“Come now,” Mr Phillips said, suddenly overcome by loquaciousness. “You want my nieces married off and out of Longbourn.”
“And you want them married off so that they do not go live with you and your wife.”
“I think, Lizzy,” interjected Charlotte, “that Mr Phillips is suggesting that, if he were your attorney, he would not declare anything that was not in your interests.”
Mr Phillips nodded noncommittedly.
“He would write the settlement papers in such a way that … what?” Charlotte addressed Mr Phillips.
“No mention of Longbourn or its disposition.”
“And you would not draw attention to the omission?”
Mr Phillips acknowledged that with more commitment.
Elizabeth felt that this was too convenient. “But the law is like a snake, is it not? One can grasp it only to find that it has tied itself in knots and has eaten its own tail.”
Charlotte’s good sense was evident as she suggested, “Why not send an express to Mr Gardiner asking him and Longbourn’s lawyer to come here? Mr Phillips, when are the papers to be signed?”
“Two days’ hence. And,” he added pointedly, “Mr Bingley has not yet paid.”
Charlotte leapt to her feet and left the room, returning quickly clutching a shilling which she handed to Elizabeth. “Pay Mr Phillips, Lizzy, so that he works for you.”
Elizabeth was suspicious, but did as her friend bade her.
Charlotte led them to her father’s study where she provided them with quills and ink. Elizabeth wrote a message to Mr Gardiner, while Mr Phillips wrote a receipt for the shilling. She asked for a second copy and enclosed it in the letter bound for London. A very rarely seen touché flitted over Mr Phillips’ face.
Stepping outside, Mr Phillips bowed to the two friends, put his hat on and said, “Good day.”
They watched as he strode away down the lane to Meryton.
“Oh, my!” said Elizabeth to Charlotte as they sat together after Mr Phillips’ departure. “Oh, my.” She held a cup of tea to her lips but did not sip. “Oh, my. I do not know what to think.”
They sat in silence for a while before Charlotte spoke. “I have not seen you since the ball at Netherfield Park. Shall I distract you and tell you of it?”
Elizabeth stopped staring into the distance and turned to face her friend. She nodded. “Please do. But would you walk with me to the Goat and Whistle to send this to Mr Gardiner?”
Charlotte agreed to the scheme and, donning their bonnets and linking arms, the two friends set off.
“Your Mr Darcy and I kept each other— ”
“He is not my Mr Darcy!”
“I believe that he would like to be,” Charlotte retorted with a meaningful look. “As I was saying, he and I kept each other company as much as possible. We danced one set but, otherwise, we kept to the edges of the ballroom. At supper, we sat with Mr and Mrs Goulding and Mr and Mrs Long. I think that Mr Darcy would not have chosen their company, but he coped well enough.”
“Did you choose seats far away from the second Mrs Bennet?”
Charlotte grinned. “That I did! And I was relieved to have done so, as Mr Bingley stood up to make an announcement.”
“I heard! Of two betrothals!”
“Oh, did Mr Darcy tell you?”
“Yes, earlier this afternoon.”
“Did he tell you want happened next?”
“No, no he did not.” Elizabeth looked expectantly at her friend.
“Lydia shrieked then started to demand that she wed first.”
“Oh, dear,” Elizabeth laughed. “I am not surprised, not at all.”
“There is more!”
“More?”
“I do believe that I saw a new expression on Jane’s face,” Charlotte leaned closer as if imparting a great secret.
“Oh, my! What was it?”
“I can best describe it as malicious satisfaction at Lydia’s disappointment. It was well hidden under demureness, of course.”
“Of course.”
They paused to pass the time of day with Mrs Long and her nieces.
Then, as they walked on, Elizabeth said, “Oh, I have news, too. Although you have probably guessed it: Lydia has eloped with Mr Wickham.”
“Mm, I inferred that from Mr Phillips’ note.”
Elizabeth looked down at the letter clutched tightly in her hand. “My uncle will be surprised to receive this as I have but recently had a letter from him. And —oh, Charlotte— I must tell you of its contents.” She looked around at the lane behind them, but lowered her voice all the same. “I asked him to make enquiries about the three cousins.”
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “What did he discover?”
“Some of their family tree.” Elizabeth sketched in the air as she described it. “Here we have Mr Darcy and his mother, Lady Anne Darcy, née Fitzwilliam. She was a sister to the colonel’s father, the current Earl of Matlock.” She drew a line up, to the left and down.
“Earl of Matlock? May I use your words, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Oh, my!” Charlotte’s even temper dictated that she did not remain ruffled for long. “Carry on drawing your tree.”
“Here we have Mr Darcy again, his grandfather and his younger brother, a judge, …” Elizabeth drew up and to the right and down again. “… who was the grandfather of one Steven Robin Darcy.” Her line finished there.
Charlotte took up the imaginary diagram. “Ah, your Mr Darcy is cousin to both this Mr Darcy and the colonel.” She pointed at the middle point and then to the right and left.”
“Yes, but ‘Cock Robin’ and ‘Dicky’ are not cousins,” Elizabeth laughed.
Charlotte tutted and nudged her. “Two Darcys?” She pointed at the right hand one, “And you are not tempted by this Mr Darcy?”
“No, no, dear friend!” Elizabeth blushed and looked down.
Chapter Forty-three — In which words are misinterpreted
Darcy
Riding back from taking his letters to the Goat and Whistle, the siren call of nature summoned Darcy off the lane and behind some bushes. He heard footsteps followed by … Miss Elizabeth’s laughter. About to step out to greet her, he heard Miss Lucas’ voice say his own name.
“And you are not tempted by this Mr Darcy?”
“No, no, dear friend!”
Pulse pounding in his ears, he heard no more. Waiting until they were out of sight, he retrieved his horse and led him back onto the lane, mounted and spurred Ajax into a canter towards Netherfield.
How deceitful! How very deceitful! He threw the reins to a stable boy and marched up the stairs to his chambers. Richard and Steven were not there. Good! He did not need their company.
He paced and raged. Deceitful! Duplicitous!
His heart, having spent many happy hours admiring Miss Elizabeth’s, added, ‘Delightful.’
He raged and paced. Scheming! Sly!
‘Superb.’
Underhand! Unscrupulous!
His heart struggled to find a paean beginning with ‘u,’ so reminded him of her fine eyes.
No!
His brain took a proud stance against deception, slyness and unscrupulousness, fencing away all opposition from his heart: ‘I ardently admire her’; his eyes: ‘we like to look at her fine eyes’; his fingers: ‘we long to run through her hair’; his arms: ‘we long to hold her’; his hands: ‘we long to caress those lumps and b…’
No! No!
He pursed his lips in anger but, they too, rebelled: ‘oh, to kiss her lips!’
No! No! No!
Within the hour, he had saddled Ajax again and was on the road to Pemberley.
Chapter Forty-four — In which visitors are welcomed
Elizabeth
Two days after her disconcerting meeting with Mr Phillips, Mr Gardiner and Longbourn’s attorney, Mr Weaver, arrived in Meryton. Elizabeth had asked Mrs Hill to ready Longbourn’s dower cottage and strolled along to greet them.
As they sat in the small parlour there, Mr Gardiner said, “What is happening, Lizzy, lass? Your message was very brief.”
“It is a tangled tale, Uncle. Since you and Mr Weaver told me of the codicil to Pappa’s will, it seems to have become more and more knotted.” She paused and rubbed her forehead in a very unladylike manner.
“Would it help you to hear that I explained your grand plan to Weaver in the carriage as we rode here?”
“Oh, yes,” sighed Elizabeth. “If I have to speak in allusions and half-truths with you two, we shall struggle to get anything resolved.” She sat forward and reached for her satchel, withdrawing her notebook and the diminishing stub of her pencil. “Through the machinations of this unholy alliance with Mr Darcy and his two cousins, ‘darling’ Lydia has eloped with a rogue of a redcoat, and ‘darling’ Jane is betrothed to the tenant of Netherfield Park, Mr Bingley. Mr Bingley appears to believe that ‘darling’ Jane is the heiress to Longbourn. And one of Mr Darcy’s cousins started a rumour that whoever wed first would inherit Longbourn.”
She waved her hands in frustration. “I am sorry, I am half agony, half hope, and cannot tell the story in any coherent manner.”
“Worry not, lass. I believe that we have it straight: both of your step-sisters’ beaux think to own Longbourn.”
“Yes, yes. That is correct.”
“Your message said that Mr Phillips had approached you and you included a receipt from him.”
“He did. I think that he proposed some sort of mutual agreement. He was surprisingly garrulous and said —no, intimated— that he did not wish for either his sister or her daughters to live with him and his wife.”
“Understandable,” Mr Gardiner remarked drily.
“Charlotte Lucas was there and said that if Mr Phillips works for me —thus the receipt for a shilling— then he would put my interests ahead of those of Mr Bingley. Mr Phillips appeared to approve her statement.”
Messrs Gardiner and Weaver exchanged glances.
“Then Charlotte suggested that I send an express to you.”
“Good. Miss Lucas advised you well,” said Mr Gardiner.
Mr Weaver spoke next. “I know you well enough, Miss Bennet, to anticipate your wish to be involved in my meeting with Phillips and this Mr Bingley …”
Elizabeth nodded.
“… but you ought not. It would not suit your plans for either Longbourn’s or your sisters’ futures if Mr Bingley has the slightest suspicion that this afternoon’s visit to Phillips’ office is anything other than a simple signing of the marriage settlement.”
Elizabeth could not hide her disappointment and reluctantly agreed.
“I shall, of course, return and report to you all that is said.”
“Thank you, Mr Weaver.”
Mr Weaver stood. “If you will excuse me, I shall walk into Meryton now and see Phillips.”
Elizabeth and Mr Gardiner bid him farewell.
“Worry not,” said Mr Gardiner. “Tell me how the remainder of your plan is faring.”
After telling all —almost all, her heart remained coy— to her uncle, the two wandered to Longbourn’s main house and to the kitchen door. After greeting Mrs Hill and Cook, they went to the book-room. Mrs Hill followed them with a tray of tea things.
Elizabeth and her uncle poured over her lists. “Am I counting my chickens?” she asked suddenly.
“A little perhaps. But you want to be ready as soon as the conditions in the codicil are met. I do not think that it is a bad thing to be prepared.”
Elizabeth nodded, glad for his reassurance. “‘Thus do many calculations lead to victory, and few calculations to defeat.’”
Mr Gardiner shook his head in tolerant amusement. “We can plan for carts to transport whatever you want to take to Derbyshire. I have an idea of what you have here, but a list would help, so send it when you have one.”
“Have you found out about the tenants of Tenston?”
“You are in luck, there, lass: they are ready to leave.”
“Really?”
“They are moving to be nearer relatives.”
“Good,” Elizabeth regarded him in astonishment. “And, dare I ask, is there any interest in Longbourn itself.”
[Sell]
“I believe that you are in luck there, too!”
Elizabeth leaned back in her father’s old chair and clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh, my!” She blew out. “Oh, my, that makes this suddenly feel very real, and a bit frightening.”
Mr Gardiner reached across the desk for her hand. “If it gets in a muddle, your aunt and I shall gladly take you in until it is unmuddled. I know that you are a country lass at heart but a few weeks or months in town will not hurt you!”
“I am not wrong to sell it, am I?”
“I think not, lass. I have shown you that you would make more money in the longer term from rent than by selling it, but, to be safe from your father’s second wife and her family, you are best making a clean break of it.”
“Do you think that Pappa would approve?” asked Elizabeth, thinking, ‘In war, appreciate victory, not a prolonged campaign.’
“You must not worry; he would want only the best for his girls.”
She nodded, tears in her eyes.
[Let]
“I have not found anyone to buy it, but have found some wishing to rent it.”
“You told me that I would make more in the long term by letting it out, so that is well, is it not?”
“Yes, lass. The tenant will pay the trust, administered by Mr Weaver and myself. Your name will not be attached to it, allowing you a clean break from your father’s second wife and her family.”
“You are sure? They will not be able to find us?”
“I am sure; they will not find you through the ownership of Longbourn.”
“Thank you, Uncle. That is a great relief.”
There was a squeak from outside the book-room and Elizabeth held up a hand to quieten her visitor.
“That was the stairs,” she whispered.
There was a creak.
“That is outside this door.”
There was a slight thump.
“That is someone leaning against this door,” she mouthed, before speaking in a normal volume. “I am very envious of Jane, of course. She has caught Mr Bingley and his five thousand. And Lydia has thrown herself into the carriage of the most dashing redcoat. Mary, Kitty and I cannot hope to be so very fortunate. Their mother is so right when she claims that they cannot be so beautiful for nothing.”
Despite his laughter, Mr Gardiner knew his part. “You could not hope to have such success with such beautiful sisters. Perhaps you might look for positions …”
Elizabeth grimaced.
“… in another county.”
Elizabeth managed a strangled sob. “Is that all that we can hope for?”
There was a crack.
“That was the parlour door,” whispered Elizabeth. “I think that we are safe.”
“Did you recognise the tread?”
“’Twas ‘darling’ Jane. Lydia is not here and she stumbles about like a troop of drunken soldiers. The second Mrs Bennet had a few drops of laudanum in her tea earlier and is contained in her chambers.” She caught his interrogative look. “Mary will release her as soon as Mr Bingley has signed the settlement papers.”
“Ah, I see, gossip about an elopement must not be allowed to put him off.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied and her heart skipped to think of Mr Darcy.
Chapter Forty-five — In which a bear is bearded
Darcy
Slumped in his chair in his study at Pemberley, Darcy stared disconsolately into space. ‘Not tempted!’ She had said that she was not tempted!
{The author spares the reader days upon days of scenes of an unkempt, unshaven, drunken Darcy throwing expensive glasses into the fireplace, and the housekeeper’s repeated annoyance at having to clean up said broken glass.}
“Eh up, Willy!”
Darcy groaned.
“Look, Dicky, Willy has turned into a bear!”
“Aye, just look at that beard. Could hide a thing or two in there!”
Darcy found himself jerked upwards and rough hands roam his cheeks and jaw.
“Ah ha, I have found a tanner!”
“Aye, and I have a whole troupe of acrobats!”
“Gerroff!” Darcy flailed ineffectually at his fiendish cousins.
Steven started to stroke his back, saying in a sing-song voice. “Fine eyes, Willy. Fine eyes.”
“Gerroff!” Darcy’s flailing became slightly less ineffectual and he managed to push one of the teasing hands away.
“Fine eyes, fine eyes!”
They had provoked the bear too much. “She doesh not like me! ‘Not tempted,’ she shaid,” he roared.
“Aye, and I am the Queen of Sheba.”
“Heard Mish Slewcash ashk her! ‘Not tempted,’ she shaid!” Darcy surged to his feet. “GERROUT!”
The visions of horror did not obey. Instead, Darcy found himself dragged backwards, kicking and roaring, down the stairs, through the kitchen and into the stable yard. Hearing gleeful chuckles, he was plopped —just so— into the horses’ water-trough. Furious, he hoisted himself upright and bellowed, “OUT! OUT! HENSHFORTH! FORTHWITH!”
Steven had found a rake and ran around the water-trough, poking the handle at him. Richard was braver and jabbed at him with swift hands.
The stable hands gathered at a safe distance to watch their master behave like some legendary kraken snarling and grasping at the aggravating taunters.
Eventually, Darcy tired and sank down into the water. Sitting, holding his head in his hands, he murmured, “She does not want me.”
Gentle hands helped him up and out of the water-trough and through the kitchen and up the stairs and, stripping him, lowered him into a bath of warm water.
“I think that you have misheard something, William.”
“Aye. Miss Elizabeth is very tempted by you.”
Darcy’s heart begged his brain to listen, to believe. His eyes wept and begged his brain to listen, to believe. His hands clenched into fists and begged his brain to listen, to believe.
“Is she?” His brain allowed his mouth to ask the question.
“Aye, she is.”
“When you left to get Barton-the-younger outfitted as a dandy and you missed our morning rendezvous, her disappointment was obvious.”
“Aye, written in big letters on her face.”
“Was it?” Darcy’s brain permitted entry to a tentative tendril of hope.
“Letters so big that they almost obscured those fine eyes.” Steven nodded.
Darcy rose from the bath, sending waves of water splashing throughout his dressing room. “Pack, Stevens, we are to return to Hertfordshire!”
“Aye, Put some clothes on first, eh, Willy.”
The two teasing cousins’ ribald laughter did not dull Darcy’s relief.
Darcy allowed himself to be persuaded to eat before leaving and, over pies and cheese and bread and fruit, Richard and Steven spoke of the latest news from Netherfield Park.
“Bingley-boy has signed the settlement papers. Miss Elizabeth arranged for Longbourn’s attorney to be there.”
“She is not losing Longbourn, is she?” Darcy was concerned.
“No, the man was there to make sure that no mentions of the estate were in the papers. Bingley-boy will not have read them, anyway.”
“Aye. Miss Lucas said that Mr Phillips was not to say anything of Longbourn.” Richard picked at his teeth with his knife. “You will be surprised at this, Willy, but Phillips offered to help Miss Elizabeth.”
“He does not want his sister or her daughters to live with him and his wife,” added Steven. “Wanted to make sure that the legalities were tied up.”
“Aye, in a pretty bow.”
“Anyway, Barton-the-younger, in his guise of Baron-the-older has written to Bingley-boy to say,” Steven belched, “groom cannot travel.”
“Aye, so they are off to Devonshire immediately after Bingley-boy’s nuptials.”
Chapter Forty-six — In which an infestation is removed
Elizabeth
“Eliza! Eliza!” the second Mrs Bennet’s shrieks made Elizabeth jump. “What are you doing with my treasures?”
Elizabeth had already planned her dissimulation. “I am readying Longbourn for its new master.”
“Why are my pretty little treasures going into a box?”
Elizabeth was wrapping every vile pottery abomination in newspaper and old rags. “The room needs a thorough clean and this will keep them safe.”
“Oh, yes, I am glad that I told you to do that!”
Elizabeth added, “I thought to get it done while you go to Devonshire.”
“Oh, yes. Darling Jane and I are eloping with dear Charles’ sister.” The second Mrs Bennet flumped into her favourite chair and started to flap her handkerchief. “Hill! Hill!”
“Mrs Hill is busy in the attics.”
“What does she do there?”
“I have asked her to pack away anything up there of no interest to the new master.”
“Yes, yes, just as you ought. Dear Charles will not want your old bits and bobs.”
“You are quite correct,” said Elizabeth, sighing as if in resignation. The ploy was lost on the second Mrs Bennet. Too subtle. She tried again. “My sisters and I shall pack up everything before we must leave.”
“‘Leave?’ Why must you leave?”
‘Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt,’ Elizabeth mused. Sun Tzu and his wisdom had never encountered the second Mrs Bennet; a thunderbolt would have no effect upon her.
“The new master will not want us living here,” she answered with forbearance.
Mrs Bennet sniffed, eyes narrowed in confusion. “You? You and the plain girls are going to leave?”
It is like reading a book, Elizabeth thought as she watched the thoughts move across her face.
Perplexity: why are the plain girls leaving?
Realisation: to make room for darling Jane and dear Charles!
Delight: ‘Mrs Bingley,’ how well that sounds!
Avarice: I shall have more money for ribbons and lace.
Suspicion: where are the plain girls going?
Dismissal: I do not care!
Suspicion returned: “What are you taking with you?”
“Some of my father’s old things, like his dusty old books.”
Mrs Bennet’s face furrowed in distaste before returning once more to dismissal. “No-one wants those dusty old books. Yes, you can have them.”
Elizabeth did not correct her; her father’s belongings were not hers of which to dispose. She had finished wrapping and packing all of the ornaments infesting the mantelpiece and was starting to gather those on the sideboard.
More thoughts had made their perilous way through the second Mrs Bennet’s head. “You can have the plain ornaments, your mother’s. Dreadful taste, that woman,” she muttered.
One, two, three … “I thought that they were not to your liking, so have asked Mrs Hill to bring them down from the attic.”
“Yes, yes. That is just what I wanted done before we elope.”
As a gentlewoman, Elizabeth must not swear, but —oh!— she was tempted, so very tempted. But, there was one more thing. “I was going to have these boxes stored in the stables unless you think that they would be safer at Netherfield.”
“Yes, yes. Tell Hill to bring my treasures to Netherfield, but very carefully! You will make sure that she takes care, Eliza.” The flutterings started.
‘Take’, not ‘bring’!
“I shall. I shall arrange for all of your belongings to be safe at Netherfield.”
“Darling Jane’s and darling Lydia’s too, Eliza.” The lacy handkerchief was waved.
“Of course,” Elizabeth agreed, dipping her head to hide a smile. “You would like all of yours and your daughters’ belongings to be taken to Netherfield.”
“Where they will be safe while we elope. Yes. That will do nicely.”
Elizabeth felt that Sun Tzu would be quite proud of her, after all had he not said, ‘the crux of military operations lies in the pretence of accommodating one’s self to the designs of the enemy’?
The second Mrs Bennet stood and inspected the wrapping and packing of her ornaments, then said, “Now, I must go to lay down; so much planning to do before our elopement.”
‘Lie’ down not ‘lay’ down! ‘To lay’ is transitive unless you are a chicken. Elizabeth cast a glance at the second Mrs Bennet. Mm, with all that flapping, add a few feathers …
Chapter Forty-seven — In which eggs are broken —or— in which a knife is twisted
Darcy
Darcy returned to Netherfield very late on the evening before the wedding, where a delighted Mr Bingley greeted him with the news that he had missed the crying of the banns, but was back in time to stand up with him. “We do not want anything to spoil my day, old chap!”
“Indeed.” Sober and in better spirits, Darcy was restored. “Indeed,” he repeated. There was an end in sight — he started to breathe more easily. He ought not have done so. Mr Bingley had more to say.
“I beg your pardon!” If he had not long before perfected a dispassionate demeanour, his jaw would have dropped.
“Well, old chap, I have seen how you look longingly at Miss Eliza. And —while I cannot for the life of me see why you might care three straws about her.” Mr Bingley shuddered. “Who could about such a nasty little freckled thing— I think that your aunt would not be happy.”
Darcy stared at the torturer, wondering what would be the latest demands.
“To keep your mind on your betrothed, I have penned an anonymous letter to her mother, your dear aunt. I have included sworn statements from the butler and housekeeper at Longbourn saying that you often visit to partake of Miss —sniff— Eliza’s favours.”
Death is too good for you.
Mr Bingley smirked. “And, now that my bride’s new brother has returned from his trip to Gretna Green, he is watching Miss —sniff— Eliza. Most keenly. With high hopes of enjoying her favours for himself.”
Darcy’s brain sent the message and his fists, quick to agree, clenched.
“While you are a good little boy, your ugly bit of muslin is safe —I do wonder at your taste, old chap— but, if you are not a good little boy … Well, you do understand, do you not.”
Darcy nodded curtly and started to leave.
Mr Bingley had gone too far. Sun Tzu had written, ‘Build your opponent a golden bridge to retreat across.’ Mr Bingley allowed Darcy no honourable defeat. Any lingering abhorrence had vanished.
Damn! Where are Richard and Steven? They had not returned to Hertfordshire with him, claiming other plans.
Running up the stairs to his chambers, he thought quickly. He must meet Miss Elizabeth the following morning before the wedding. Or, send a message. No, he could not write directly to her. No, not directly to her, but to someone else at Longbourn; but who?
Mrs Hill!
He hastily penned a note saying that he looked forward to seeing all at Longbourn upon his return from Devonshire, and hoped to partake of Cook’s shortbread soon.
That would have to do and he would hand it directly to Mrs Nicholls.
Chapter Forty-eight — In which there is the return of a ‘darling’ and a ‘dear’
Elizabeth
Also on the day before ‘darling’ Jane’s wedding, the new Mr and Mrs Wickham arrived.
The second Mrs Bennet assembled them in the breakfast room to receive them. Smiles decked her face as the carriage drove up to the door; Elizabeth and her sisters looked alarmed, anxious and a little uneasy.
They heard ‘darling’ Lydia’s voice in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand, with an affectionate smile, to Wickham, who followed his lady; and wished them both joy with an alacrity which showed no doubt of her happiness.
“Oh, my darling Lydia! To elope without me! If you were not so tall, I should not forgive you!
‘Darling’ Lydia was still ‘darling’ Lydia, Elizabeth noticed: untamed, unabashed, noisy, selfish. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their congratulations and introduced her new husband to them. There was no want of chatter. The bride and her mother could neither of them talk fast enough.
Elizabeth shuddered as Wickham happened to sit near herself with an inappropriately intimate ease.
“I am afraid that I interrupt your solitude, my dear sister,” said he, as he leaned too close.
“You certainly do,” she replied, wishing him gone.
“I should be sorry indeed, if that were true. We were always good friends, you and I, and now we are better.”
“We have not met ere now, Ensign,” Elizabeth frowned. “So could not have been friends.”
“My dear Eliza, you flirted with me at your uncle’s house, but a fortnight back.”
She shook her head and attempted to stand. “I have no memory of that. Excuse me, I shall ring for tea.”
He pulled her back into her seat. “Not until I have the assurance of your favours.” He lowered his voice. “Perhaps when Lydia is asleep I shall visit your chambers.”
She shook him off. “I think not, Ensign.”
‘Therefore the clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy’s will to be imposed on him.’ Please bear with me, Master Sun; I managed but half of this.
Feeling cowardly, the sisters hid in their father’s book-room until supper time. Late in the afternoon, Ned had knocked on the window and handed in a basket of tea things.
Elizabeth looked through their father’s book of mythical animals and found a description of a creature with a long snout which it used to eat ants. The author claimed that it had a coat of many colours and a long bushy tail. She read the description to her sisters; they agreed with her that it was an invention.
Then she had allowed herself to be distracted by Kitty and Mary’s task. She had asked them to draw up lists of clothing: what would they like for a treat, what would be necessary for a winter wardrobe, and what would they choose if money were no object?
Too soon, far too soon, it was time for supper. Time to face Mr Wickham.
“You have been avoiding me, dear sisters,” were his welcoming words.
“We have been busy with estate work,” Elizabeth replied through gritted teeth.
“Ah, yes, I must talk to you about that. Now that I am the new master.” His leer became feral.
“Oh, dear Ensign. Eliza knows nothing of such matters best left to men. We shall take your carriage to my brother’s office.”
I doubt that a carriage would fit in his office, Elizabeth thought irreverently.
“I have told him that we shall see him, all together, after darling Jane has married dear Charles.” She took ‘darling’ Jane’s hand and kissed it.
“La, Mamma! Mine too!” cried ‘darling’ Lydia extending her own hand for her mother to kiss.
“We must arrange it all before we leave,” insisted Mr Wickham.
“Yes, yes. That is what I thought, dear Ensign. Ring the bell for the carriage, Kitty.”
“He is unlikely to welcome you this late in the evening,” said Mary.
“Yes, yes, first thing on the morrow.”
“La, Mamma! We married women do not rise until noontime!”
“Yes, yes, my darling Lydia. First thing at noon.”
Kitty asked the obvious question: “Is it not the wedding in the morning?”
“Oh yes! That is what I was thinking.” The second Mrs Bennet nodded. “We shall visit my brother when we return from eloping to …”
“Gretna Green,” supplied Mary.
“… with dear Charles’ sister.
Mr Wickham announced that he would visit Mr Phillips first thing, before the wedding, to arrange the matter of his ownership.
Elizabeth felt that her new accord with Mr Phillips necessitated a note of warning. Thus Mr Phillips found business elsewhere until his presence was required for giving —throwing? wondered Elizabeth— ‘darling’ Jane away. And thus Mr Wickham was thwarted in his aims.
After the awkward supper, Elizabeth, Mary and Kitty escaped to the sanctuary of the kitchen.
“I do not feel safe,” cried Kitty.
“Nor me,” added Mary.
“Thank goodness John put the lock on our door,” Elizabeth agreed. “It is only tonight; should we stay in our chamber here or flee to the dower cottage until they leave for the wedding?” She dropped her head into her hands. This really is too much.
Mrs Baker interrupted, brandishing her rolling pin, “I be givin’ ’im what for!”
Mrs Hill came to stand next to Elizabeth. “Go to the cottage, Miss Lizzy. John and I shall come with you.”
“No, you being a-stayin’ ’ere, Nicola,” the cook said. “The missus’ll see if you be a-gone. I be goin’ an’ a-takin’ John.”
“We shall need a few things,” began Elizabeth gratefully.
“I know what to get,” said Mrs Hill. “Go, now. If you would let me have your key, John will take your things along, soon.”
The three sisters slipped from the kitchen door and made their way to the dower cottage. Mrs Baker bustled along behind them clutching a basket of victuals in one hand and her trusty rolling pin in the other.
They slept uneasily at the dower cottage, worried that every noise was Mr Wickham.
One more morning, thought Elizabeth as they returned to the kitchen. We can bear this final morning.
Ned greeted them with the news that he had deployed a lot —an awful lot, he admitted, shame-faced— of Mr Bennet’s port to render Mr Wickham harmless.
“Excellent, Ned!” cried Elizabeth. Then, addressing her sisters, she said, “Let us have some breakfast and go for a short walk before anyone awakes. Then we shall be maids to them for the last time.”
Chapter Forty-nine — In which hands are bound
Darcy
Blooming furious! Darcy was blooming furious! Mr Bingley and his man had not left him for one moment, giving him no chance either to ride out or to pass the note to Mrs Nicholls
He was escorted to his place next to Mr Bingley where they awaited the bride. Darcy hoped to see Miss Elizabeth, but he could not spot her, Miss Mary or Miss Catherine in the tightly-packed pews. Then it was time; the congregation stood as Miss Bennet was led down the aisle by her uncle, Mr Phillips. Her bridesmaids followed them. Darcy could barely conceal his surprise to find that Mrs Bennet had joined her ‘darling’ Lydia in the procession.
The bride’s mother as a bridesmaid! In his disbelief, he almost missed that Miss Bennet’s wrist was bound. Bound very prettily in silk and lace, but bound all the same.
He caught Miss Lucas’ eye and had a sudden shock of realisation. Miss Bennet could not write. Miss Bennet could not sign her name because she could not write. Miss Bennet’s wrist was bound so that she would not have to write.
Darcy had no idea what would happen in the vestry when it came to signing the register. His eyes wandered to Mr Phillips, an attorney. He would know what to do.
Distracted, he missed most of the service, but handed the ring to Mr Bingley when prompted.
Finally, the parson pronounced them man and wife, and Darcy breathed. It is over! He looked around the small church and caught sight of Miss Elizabeth in the very back row. His heart sang and his eyes, hands and brain joined in, creating a glorious harmony — if only to his own ears. He followed Mr and Mrs Bingley to the vestry and added his own signature noticing that a wobbly ‘x’ and Mr Phillips’ signature filled the space for the bride’s mark.*
Leaving the vestry, he found Mr Wickham waiting.
“I shall be keeping an eye on you now, Darcy. Any tricks and I shall take Miss Eliza’s favours.” He leaned close and muttered, “Whether she offers them or not.”
Darcy glared at him.
The hour of the wedding breakfast was torturous. He could not escape and he could not espy Miss Elizabeth.
The sisters’ absence was explained by a shrill Mrs Bennet holding court among the local gossips. “No, no, the plain girls were not invited, far too drab to attend my darling Jane.”
Darcy missed her neighbour’s observation, but not her reply. “What do you mean? They sat at the back?”
More murmurs, then, “Yes, it was gracious of I to allow them to see my darling Jane’s pustules, but they will not come here now. I have told them to prepare Longbourn for its new master.”
His shoulders slumped with disappointment.
A soft voice came from behind him: Miss Lucas. “Once more, it seems as though you and I must depend upon one another, Mr Darcy.”
He turned to bow but his movement was stayed by Mr Bingley, who stood before him with his back to Miss Lucas. “Now, now, my old friend. There is no need for you to be trapped with the local spinster. It is time for us to depart.”
Shrugging him off, Darcy took Miss Lucas’ hand and completed his bow. “Miss Lucas.”
He was relieved that she did not startle upon receiving his tightly folded note.
“Safe travels, Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley,” she said graciously before curtseying and moving away.
* The legality or otherwise of this is irrelevant to the plot
Chapter Fifty — In which a soufflé rises from the broken egg-shells
Elizabeth
Despite the second Mrs Bennet’s adamant prohibition against their attendance, the Bennet sisters crept into the church to witness ‘darling’ Jane’s wedding. From their place at the back, Elizabeth could see Mr Darcy scan the faces of the congregation, and was disappointed that he did not catch her eye.
As the register was being signed, they slipped away and Elizabeth suggested to her sisters that they meet at Oakham Mount. “I shall walk the longer route and see you there in an hour or so.”
Thus, from their vantage point, they saw the carriages depart from Netherfield after the wedding breakfast, and watched as Charlotte climbed the small hill to join them.
“Was it ghastly, Charlotte?” Mary called as their friend approached them.
“Surprisingly, not,” replied Charlotte. “Mrs Bennet was annoyed to hear that you had had the temerity to show your plain faces at the church, but then proclaimed to everyone within a two-mile radius that you were at Longbourn to prepare it for the new master.” She squashed in next to them on the rock under the oak tree.
Charlotte nudged Elizabeth. “I managed a few words with Mr Darcy, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth attempted nonchalance as she replied, “Is he well?”
“I think that he was not fully well,” began her friend. “He seemed rather put-upon.”
“In what way?”
Mary and Kitty were listening as Charlotte replied, “Mr Bingley was being very rude …”
“To you or to Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth interrupted.
“To me, mostly. He spoke of Mr Darcy being ‘trapped by the local spinster.’” Charlotte looked down at her lap.
“Oh, Charlotte.” Elizabeth put an arm around her friend.
“Never mind,” Charlotte sighed and shook her head. “As Mr Darcy took his leave, he slipped a note into my hand.”
“What does it say?” Kitty cried.
“It is addressed to Mrs Hill.”
“Clever! He cannot write directly to you, Lizzy,” Mary pointed out.
“Thus we must wait,” said Elizabeth, smiling.
“But Kitty need not wait.” Mary reminded her elder sister.
“Wait for what?” demanded Kitty.
“Well, Kitty, dear, this is the perfect time and place to tell you of the cedilla.”
“You said that it was a little French hook.”
“I did, but you misheard the word. I said ‘codicil’ which is a change added to the end of a will.”
“Pappa’s will?”
“Yes, Yes!” Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Kitty and squeezed her.
“What? What? What did it say?”
“It says that ‘darling’ Jane and ‘darling’ Lydia have not the right to live at Longbourn now that they are married.”
Kitty’s eyes widened.
“And it says that when her daughters are married, she cannot live at Longbourn either.”
“You mean that they have gone for good?”
“For good or for ill, they have gone!”
Kitty broke from her sister’s tight embrace and started to dance about. The others joined in her joy.
Calm, at last, Elizabeth told Kitty of their move away from Hertfordshire.
Kitty sat down on the boulder with a thump. “Move away? From Longbourn?”
“Yes, dear. It will not be safe for us here when they come back.”
“They will be cross?”
“I should be very surprised if they were not exceedingly cross.”
Mary and Charlotte nodded.
“And that ‘darling’ Lydia will not know where we are?”
“No, she will not.”
“Very well,” said Kitty, face brightening. “When do we leave?”
“The day after your birthday. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner will come in a few days to help with the rest of our packing.”
“Oh, that is why you have been packing her ugly whatnots.”
“It is. Now, let us return to Longbourn for I hope that we shall not be going alone.”
With Mr Darcy’s note to Mrs Hill safe in her pocket, Elizabeth followed her sisters and friend as they skipped and gambolled down the small hill.
They settled, as usual, around the kitchen table, and a ‘hello’ from the door announced the arrival of Mrs Nicholls. Elizabeth called her to join them. “You, too, Ned.”
She grinned at them. They caught her joy and smiled in return.
“First, I have something for you, Mrs Hill.” She handed the fold of paper to the housekeeper.
“’Tis from that nice Mr Darcy,” Mrs Hill said to their expectant faces. “He says that he wants more shortbread when he comes back from Devonshire.”
Mmm, thought Elizabeth. He had quit Hertfordshire three weeks earlier with nary a word and had not visited Longbourn upon his return. Mr Stevens and the colonel had also departed. She would think on that later; after sharing her news with the servants.
“Very well. I have some news for you.”
She told them of the codicil to Mr Bennet’s will. She told them of the plans to marry off ‘darling’ Jane and ‘darling’ Lydia. She told them that neither they, their new husbands nor the second Mrs Bennet had the right to live at Longbourn.
A small cheer and a large sigh of relief greeted her news.
“I have more news which, I am afraid might not cheer you so much. My sisters and I are leaving Longbourn.”
She looked around at shocked faces.
“I had two reasons for doing so. When Mr Bingley and Ensign Wickham return from Devonshire, they are likely to be angry to find the truth. Mary, Kitty and I —and Miss Lucas— are running away, leaving before their return, and would like to invite you —all of you— to run away with us.”
She let them consider the idea for a few moments.
“We own an estate elsewhere …”
“Where? You did not say!” demanded Kitty.
“I shall not say. If Mrs Hill, her family and Mrs Baker do not want to come with us, then I do not want them to be forced to tell where we have gone.” She hurriedly added, “Angry men might be quite persuasive.”
The servants looked at each other.
“Are you taking my Ned away, Miss Lizzy?” asked Mrs Nicholls.
“Oh, no! We are hoping that you will come too!” cried Mary.
“Yes! Was I not clear?” She addressed each of them in turn. “We hope that you, Mrs Hill; you, John; you, Mrs Baker; you, Ned; and you, Mrs Nicholls, will choose to come with us.”
A figure appeared at the kitchen door.
“Me too, Miss Lizzy?”
Elizabeth jumped. It was Mr Onions; Mrs Baker’s blush provided the reason for his request.
Mary answered him, Elizabeth being too surprised at the thought of Mr Onions being sweet on Mrs Baker. “As long as Sir William agrees, then yes, Mr Onions, you too. You would have to be a man of all work until we are settled into the new estate as it already has a steward.”
Mr Onions nodded keenly and found a seat at the table next to Mrs Baker.
Elizabeth regained her voice. “As I said, we hope that you will choose to come with us.”
“Lizzy and I shall pay you for the next quarter if you decide to stay,” Mary added.
Elizabeth started to stand. “Shall we leave you to discuss it?”
“When you a-be leavin’?”
“In seven days. The day following Kitty’s birthday.”
“I dint need discuss nuffin’, Missy Lizzy,” said Mrs Baker, stealing a glance at Mr Onions. “Ima comin’ wiv ye.”
Elizabeth smiled broadly and leaned across the table to kiss the cook’s rosy cheek. She and her sisters left the kitchen so that the others could make their decisions without being pressured.
To Elizabeth’s relief and delight, all of the servants chose to join their adventures in the north country.
Their packing began in earnest.
Kitty had the job of packing ‘darling’ Lydia and ‘darling’ Jane’s belongings. Elizabeth bid her to reclaim anything that was not theirs. Kitty grinned in enthusiasm and skipped up the stairs.
Mary had the job of packing her belongings, again reclaiming anything that was not hers.
Elizabeth asked Mrs Hill and her sister to pack anything that remained in the parlours, while Ned, John and Mr Onions were to bring down everything from the attic.
Elizabeth dealt with the contents of her father’s book-room, packing his books carefully like long-cherished friends.
Alone, she thought of Mr Darcy and his disappearance, his return and his message to Mrs Hill. Dare she have any hopes, hopes that he would return to see her and that the desire for shortbread was a ploy?
An idea formed. Yes, she thought, mulling it over, that might work.
© 2022
