Alliance and the Artifice of War 51-60
Chapter Fifty-one — In which once is happenstance, twice is coincidence and three times is enemy action*
Darcy
Sitting atop Ajax, ready to go, Darcy had watched a peculiar dance as they had prepared to leave Netherfield after the wedding breakfast.
Mr Bingley had wished to be alone with his new bride in his own carriage.
Mrs Bennet had wished to join them.
Mr Bingley had tried to escort his new mother-in-law to the Hursts’ carriage.
Miss Bingley had claimed that there was not sufficient room; after all, she had all of her belongings with her.
Mrs Bennet had climbed into Mr Bingley’s carriage and had taken a seat next to the new Mrs Bingley.
Mr Bingley had started to climb in too, but Mrs Bennet had called Mr and Mrs Wickham to join them.
Miss Bingley had begged Darcy to sit with her in the Hursts’ carriage.
Darcy had declined.
Mr Bingley had pointed out the spare seat in the Hursts’ carriage, to no avail.
Mrs Bennet had declared that she would sit with her darling daughters.
Mr Bingley had taken the seat next to Mr Wickham.
And, finally, they had set off. He considered escaping and galloping to Longbourn, to Miss Elizabeth, but thought of the forged papers and Georgiana’s reputation. With regret, he decided that retrieving the papers must come first.
Now, he thought, where are Steven and Richard?
On that first day, they travelled southwest towards High Wycombe.
Darcy heard the strident tones of the new Mrs Wickham broadcast from the open carriage window. “I am the tallest Mrs Wickham,” she said smugly upon hearing the name of the town.
“When we arrive, you shall be the highest, too, darling Lydia.”
Later, at the inn that they had chosen, there was bad news: there were but two chambers available.
“Ha, ha!” cried Mr Bingley. “My wife and I shall take the first, and I do not care who has the second!”
“I and Wicky!”
Miss Bingley protested. “Me and my sister shall have it!”
Darcy listened in amusement. He saw his cousins’ hands in the shortage of rooms.
“Where am I to sleep, then?” cried Mr Hurst.
No-one answered; the man was known to be able to sleep anywhere.
The squabbling continued until the innkeeper shouted at them to be quiet. The ladies would have the two chambers, he declared; the men would sleep downstairs or in the stables. Mrs Bennet and her daughters took the larger chamber; Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst took the smaller.
While wondering how much of his money had guaranteed the shortage of chambers, Darcy resigned himself to sleeping in the stables. He expected that similar mishaps would blight the rest of their journey.
He was correct: five long days and four increasingly frustrating nights for Mr Bingley saw their arrival in Devonshire. Their arguments en route and Miss Bingley’s adamant refusal to leave de bonne heure, meant that it was a very tetchy party which arrived at Hentner Treen very late in the evening before the wedding. With scant time to greet the groom in his special wheeled chair, they were whisked up to their chambers for meals, ablutions and bed.
After midnight, Darcy descended the stairs to find the Lord-Lineley twins. Instead he found Mr Bingley, completely soused.
“Shesh sharing a room with her muvva! ‘Wimmin’s problems,’ her muvva shaid! ‘Wimmin’s problems,’ When do I gerra grab hold of thoshe lumpsh and bumpsh?” Mr Bingley slurred petulantly.
Darcy felt no sympathy, no sympathy at all, and delegated a couple of footmen to hoy Mr Bingley off to bed. Then he found his hosts in their book-room and reached for Baron’s hand. “How are you?”
“I do not have long, Darcy,” Baron replied, matter-of-factly.
“Will you be well for the morrow?”
“Oh, yes. It will be my last hurrah!” He gestured Darcy to a seat.
“Have you received Miss Bingley’s dowry?”
“Yes. Barton will use it to restore the manor house and much of the estate.”
“No second thoughts?”
“None whatsoever. When you wrote of Bingley’s blackmail, I was only too happy to help.”
“I admit to having found this disguise and deception to be an abhorrence,” Darcy shifted uneasily in his chair.
“One more day, then it will be done. Remember that my new brother-in-law needs to be put in his place.”
“As does your new wife,” interjected Barton.
“Ha, ha. That she does. Barton told me of the gossip that ruined the reputation of your fine-eyed Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy did not blush; it was not done for men to do so. But he allowed a fond smile to grace his features.
The twins laughed good-naturedly at him, before Baron said, “Now, as I cannot ask my twin to do so, I hope that you will agree to stand with me —huh! next to me— in the morning.”
Darcy shifted again, feeling awkward. “I see the purpose and shall accept.” He straightened. “It will be an honour.”
Barton stood and moved behind the wheeled chair. “If you will be so good as to excuse us, I shall take Baron to his chambers.”
Darcy stood too and bowed in farewell.
Baron’s voice floated back to him. “Beauty sleep! Need every minute!”
* Ian Fleming not Sun Tzu (anachronistic, I know)
Chapter Fifty-two — Hic est draco
Elizabeth
“You have a very small park here. This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening in summer; the windows are full west.” Strident tones echoed around the emptying house.
Elizabeth assumed that it was someone to view Longbourn and heard Charlotte begin to explain that the estate had already been taken.
The owner of the voice ignored Charlotte. “There seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness on one side of your lawn.”
“Yes, madam, there is.”
Elizabeth heard the creaks and squeaks which indicated that the doors to the dining-parlour and the drawing-room had been opened. The voice pronounced them to be decent looking rooms.
“I thank you, madam, but— ” Charlotte’s protests were interrupted.
“You can be at no loss to understand the reason of my journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come.”
Elizabeth could imagine her friend’s astonishment as she replied, “Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here.”
The strident voice grew angry. “You ought to know, that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it.”
Elizabeth descended a few steps to better hear Charlotte’s futile reply. “I beg your pardon— ”
“A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to you.”
Charlotte laughed, “If you believed it impossible to be true, I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could you propose by it?”
“At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.”
“Your coming to Longbourn,” said Charlotte mischievously, “will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in existence.”
“If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourself? Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?”
“I never heard that it was.”
“And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?”
“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with you. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer.”
Elizabeth could hear that Charlotte was struggling to subdue her laughter.
“This is not to be borne. I insist on being satisfied.”
“You have declared it to be impossible.”
“It ought to be so; it must be so. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to me.”
Still listening from the stairs, Elizabeth snorted. Charlotte? Arts and allurements?
“If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it. But if someone owes money to you, then— ”
“Do you know who I am?”
“No, madam, I do not,” Charlotte laughed aloud.
“I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world, and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.”
“But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this, ever induce me to be explicit.”
“You will be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. Your name will never even be mentioned by any of us.”
“I am glad to hear it, madam. Now, if— ”
“Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done.”
Elizabeth stepped into the parlour; Charlotte was dealing with the intruder admirably, but enough was enough.
“The estate is already spoken for, madam,” the impudent Lizzy Bennet offered a non sequitur.
“You refuse, then, to oblige me.”
“I am afraid so, madam. The papers were signed several weeks ago, now.”
“Unfeeling, selfish girl!”
“There are other estates nearby, madam.”
“I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.”
“That will make your situation at present more pitiable; but it will have no effect on us,” said a male voice.
“I will not be interrupted.”
Mr Gardiner came in. Elizabeth had not heard his carriage arrive. He took the visitor by the arm and led her, squawking, back to her carriage.
Mrs Gardiner came inside the house and greeted her nieces and their friend. “Who was that?”
Shrugs were the only reply.
Chapter Fifty-three — In which revenge is exacted and much sadness is felt
Darcy
Another wedding, Darcy groaned. He smiled. And then I can return to Longbourn. His brain and heart, eyes and hands, then in perfect sympathy, sang, sang and sang.
Again his attention wandered during the ceremony but, at long last, they were all signing the register held at the little chapel attached to Hentner Treen.
As the guests followed the newly-wedded couple into the room set up for the wedding breakfast, a hand shot out and pulled Darcy aside.
It was Steven’s. “Come, let us deal with Bingley-boy.”
They made their way to the study. There, quaking in one of the chairs, was Mr Bingley. Standing over him, in full uniform, sword and all, was Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.
“Ah, Darcy! There you are! You nearly missed the fun: Bingley-boy is about to hand us his forged papers.”
“Indeed.”
“Th-they are in m-my room.”
“Mr Stevens will fetch them while you wait here nice and quietly.”
Mr Bingley stuttered instructions for finding the papers and Steven slipped away.
“So, Bingley-boy. How is married life, so far?” asked Richard, sporting an evil grin.
“Lumps and bumps in the right places?” Darcy asked, idly.
“Aye, a man wants a nice rounded bum and nice rounded breasts to grab hold of, does he not, Bingley-boy?” added Richard.
“W-well, w-what w-with th-the l-long j-journey …”
“Oh, aye. I heard that the inns were all full. Shame, Bingley-boy, shame. Almost biblical that, do you not agree, cousin?”
“Indeed.”
“‘C-cousin?’”
“Indeed. Do you not remember my cousin, my Uncle Hugh’s son, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam?”
“B-but … he w-was n-not a s-soldier!”
“Aye, secret mission, Bingley-boy.”
Steven returned. “There are some here purporting to be written by Longbourn’s non-existent butler, and —ooh, look— some mentioning other people. What a naughty Bingley-boy you have been, Bingley-boy!”
“Aye. Now here you are, Bingley-boy, at a fork in the road. Do you take the path of wedded bliss and we never hear of you again, or are you inclined to continue with your blackmailing career?”
“Colonel, I thought that we had agreed to, you know, make him unable to consummate his wedded bliss,” interjected Steven.
Mr Bingley gulped.
Richard drew his sword. “Which is it, Bingley-boy? Choir boy or eunuch?”
“The f-first!”
“Aye, I thought that you would choose that. Mr Stevens, here, thought that you would choose to continue your blackmail.” Richard looked ruefully at the blade of his sword and slipped it back into its scabbard.
Steven rummaged in his pocket and handed a ha’penny to Richard.
“Aye, I like a man who pays his debts in a timely manner. Very well, Bingley-boy, we just have some documents for you to sign. You would not care to forget your decision, would you, Bingley-boy?”
Mr Bingley hastily signed where Steven pointed.
Richard clapped him on the back. “Off you go, Bingley-boy. Enjoy those lumps and bumps!”
Mr Bingley scurried away.
When the cousins had finished laughing, Darcy asked what they had made Mr Bingley sign.
“As well as the blackmail?”
“Indeed.”
“He has pledged to wear odd stockings at every assembly, to sit backwards on his horse while hunting, and to call his first son, ‘Bingley-Boy’s Boy.’”
“Aye, and his first daughter, “Lady Catherine de.’”
Darcy snorted; it was over.
Not quite.
The next morning, Barton-the-younger came to find them.
“Friends, my brother has just died.”
“Aye, it happens.”
“Indeed.”
“So sorry, Barton.”
Barton Lord-Lineley’s eyes filled with tears. “He lasted longer than we hoped. Your quest drove him on, you know. He took such delight in joining it, so thank you.”
“Aye.”
“Indeed. What would you like us to do to help you?”
“He and I spoke of this. Would you leave with me for a few days until the will is read after the funeral? Loath as I am to abandon him, as his twin, I cannot be seen here until then.”
Steven put an arm around his shoulder. “When do you want to go?”
They left an hour later, Barton joining them when they were out of sight of Hentner Treen.
“Where are we going?” Darcy asked.
“First, to the post as I have an express to send,” replied Steven.
“Aye, Cock Robin has written a billy-do to his fem fatal, Mrs Hill.”
Darcy looked to the heavens. A billet-doux to Longbourn’s housekeeper, hmph, indeed.
“Then to the ocean!”
“Do you not mean the sea? The wet stuff that surrounds England?”
“Ah, no. The pointy end of Cornwall sticks out into the Atlantic and I have a desire to see if it is the same as the sea.”
Stopping at the first post to dispatch Steven’s ‘billy-do,’ the foursome made a mad dash to the pointy end of Cornwall to see the Atlantic Ocean.
Chapter Fifty-four — In which an express is delivered
Elizabeth
It was Kitty’s birthday. Their packing was almost done. The large pieces of furniture and many boxes had already started their long journey north.
Elizabeth looked around her father’s book-room; empty. Empty of his books, empty of his desk and chair, empty of the chest of drawers. Almost empty: the book shelves remained. Mr Gardiner had persuaded her to leave them behind. She knelt down next to the loose floorboard to make certain that nothing remained concealed beneath it.
She was ready to go.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner, Charlotte and the members of the household gathered in the kitchen —the only room with furniture— for tea with extra shortbread. Ned returned from answering a knock at the door, clutching a letter.
“For you, Aunt, an express,” he said, handing it to Mrs Hill.
As the party watched, fearing bad news, Mrs Hill broke the seal, unfolded it and read the first few lines. Smiling, she passed it to Elizabeth. “Would you read it to us, please, Miss Lizzy? I think that it is for all of us.”
Elizabeth took it and read aloud:
“‘My dearest Mrs Hill and the very loveliest Mrs Baker, brother John, the shortbread thief and his mother (and the very sage Mr Onions, if he is with you),
“‘I feel it incumbent upon me as Mr Darcy’s ferret valet to relate to you the tale of our adventures since last we met. It saddens me that I must start with the grave news of the death of a hero: Baron-the-older died last night.’”
Elizabeth broke off. “Oh, how sad.”
Murmurs agreed with her.
“‘Barton-no-longer-the-younger-but-the-only assured us how much his twin had enjoyed his small part —crucial part, says Dicky— in our quest. More anon.
“‘As Dicky and I were not invited to the tying in unholy matrimony of Bingley-boy and Miss Pig-swill —Miss Elizabeth, I know that you are reading this, please reclaim your name— we determined to enjoy ourselves elsewhere, otherwise.’
“Another hand has written the word, ‘Aye! Our own jolly jape’”
“‘It was a bright, sunny day, with ne’er a cloud in sight, when Dicky and I set forth upon the long and winding road to Gretna Green Hentner Treen. Upon our trusty steeds with nothing to sustain us but handfuls of Willy’s money, our intent was to smooth the way for Miss Bingley-boy on her perilous elopement.’”
“Again, the other hand writes,” said Elizabeth. “‘Cock Robin has it ars …’ Some words are scribbled out here. Ah,” she said, blushing, “they are ungentlemanly. ‘Cock Robin has it muddled up. We ruined the journey for them!’”
“Mr Stevens continues, ‘Dicky is tangling the yarn of our daring derring-do; any pretence of suspense is lost. Yes, we ruined their journey. With handfuls of Willy’s money, we bribed the keeps at every inn along the away to have only two rooms available. One would be full of Pig-swill, and Miss Bingley-boy and her shadow (companion? what is she?) would take the other. The men, including the eager groom, Bingley-boy, had to make do with the taproom or the stables.’”
Mr Gardiner snorted.
“‘Much hearty laughter, Miss Mary, was enjoyed by one and all!’”
Elizabeth paused to nudge Mary fondly.
“‘Despite the excitement of her elopement, Miss Bingley-boy would not rise early enough each day for them to travel far, thus their journey took far too long and they arrived here at Gretna Green Hentner Treen in darkness. The following day was the wedding. Willy stood up with Baron-the-older as Barton-no-longer-the-younger-but-the-only is hiding until the will is read.’
“‘The new Mrs Lord-Lineley, she of the innuendos and malicious gossip, was wed and widowed on the same day. ‘Lady Caroline,’ as she insists we call her, had a bit of a shock and fainted dead away.’ The colonel has written, ‘Aye, but not dead enough to stop her bloody wailing.’”
Red-faced, Elizabeth skimmed ahead, while the others laughed.
“Mr Stevens continues, ‘Mrs Pig-swill has been fluttering her handkerchief at Lady Caroline and offering to share her smelling salts — quite generously, I thought, given how little she has left to her name. Mrs Pig-swill also persists in calling Wickham, ‘dear Ensign.’ Did you put her up to this?? Meanwhile, the new Mrs Wickham tells us (hourly) that she married first because she is the tallest. Is that a custom in Hertfordshire??? It makes no sense to us. Even Willy, who knows more than any other man alive, does not understand this.
“‘Nothing has been seen of the new Mrs Bingley-boy-Pig-swill. Mrs Pig-swill says that she has ‘wimmin’s’ problems, but we mere men know nothing of those things. They seem to be affecting Bingley-boy quite badly though. We hope that it is not catching.’”
There was knowing laughter from the married among the listeners, while Ned and the Bennet sisters looked blank.
“Oh, this is the colonel’s writing again, ‘Dealt with Bingley-boy. Got the papers.’ Mr Stevens continues, ‘Dicky waved his sword in an ostentatiously threatening manner. That might have persuaded him.’”
Elizabeth laughed. “I can see the two of them squabbling over who is to tell the tale.” She held the letter up for the others to see. “Look at all of those blots and spatters!”
“More tea, anyone?”
Mary refilled their cups, while Elizabeth deciphered the rest of the letter.
“Ah, Mr Stevens then says, ‘Fully contrite, Bingley-boy willingly signed some of our own papers …’”
“Willingly at sword point, by the sound of it,” Mary interjected.
“‘… in which he promises to be a good Bingley-boy, promises to ride his horse sitting backwards …’” Elizabeth laughed, “‘… and promises to wear odd-coloured stockings to all assemblies’!” She turned the page. “Oh, there is more: ‘and promises to call his first son, Bingley-Boy’s Boy and his first daughter, “Lady Catherine de.’”
“‘Lady Catherine de’ what?” asked Kitty.
“I know not.” Elizabeth shook her head. “He does not say.”
“Their aunt is called ‘Lady Catherine de Bourgh,’” said Mary. “Perhaps they joke about her.”
“Perhaps. ‘Lady Catherine de Bingley-boy.’”
“Poor little girl,” sighed Mrs Gardiner.
“Mr Stevens continues his tale. ‘We are abandoning Gretna Green Hentner Treen and taking Barton-no-longer-the-younger-but-the-only on a mad race to see the ocean …’”
“Does he mean the sea?” asked Kitty. “I should like to see the sea.”
Mrs Gardiner took her hand. “We must plan a trip for next summer. Would you like that?”
“Oh, yes, above anything!”
Elizabeth read on. “This is a bit of a mess. There is something about the ‘pointy end’ and the Atlantic Ocean.”
Mr Gardiner laughed. “I see what he means, lass. At some point —ha ha— along the Cornish coast, the sea there changes name from The English Channel and becomes the Atlantic. It appears that they are on a grand adventure to Land’s End to see an ocean.”
Mrs Baker started to gather up the tea things. “I baint an-ask why. Seems like a-foolishness to me.”
“I am sure that you are right, Cook,” said Mary. “Is there any more in the letter, Lizzy?”
“He says that they will distract Barton from his grief, even though —oh, where is it?— here, ‘Baron-the-older had been determined to have his last hurrah and had enjoyed reading every letter about our little schemes.’”
“I am glad that he had a small amount of joy at the end,” said Mary.
“Mm, me too. It is signed, ‘Mr Stevens, Cock Robin and Steven Darcy,’ Then, in brackets, he has written, ‘but you knew that, did you not, Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas?’”
Elizabeth shared a glance with Charlotte, who replied, “Yes, we knew that.”
“I do not understand!” cried Kitty. “Is Mr Darcy’s valet really his brother?”
“No, dear. Mr Steven Darcy is the other Mr Darcy’s cousin. It seems that he pretends to be his valet in order to,” she shook her head, “find things out.”
“A disguise!” cried Kitty.
“Nice lad, that Mr Stevens,” Mrs Baker declared. “Knew he int no vallit, mind.”
“You were quite right, Mrs Baker.”
Charlotte stood. “I ought to return to Lucas Lodge but look forward to seeing you for supper this evening. Kitty, would you like to walk back with me?”
Kitty agreed as she wished to spend more time with Maria before their departure.
Chapter Fifty-five — In which there are fracas, furore and fraternal fisticuffs
Darcy
The Atlantic Ocean looked just like the sea. Richard, who had sailed upon it to Portugal and back again, said that he had not taken much notice at the time, too occupied he had been with the daily nightmares of mal de mer.
It did not matter. They were supporting Barton, distracting him a little from his grief.
All too soon, it was time to return to Hentner Treen. Barton had arranged with his attorney and steward that the will would be read four days after his brother’s death. On their return, they slipped to their chambers to wash before the reading.
They slapped Barton on the back, giving him hearty masculine reassurance, before entering the library to find the new Mrs Lord-Lineley and her very extended family arguing with the attorney, Mr Timpson.
“You will call me ‘Lady Caroline,’ and you will read my husband’s will.
Having caught sight of Barton, Mr Timpson began. “After the usual preamble, ‘My entire estate is left to my brother, Barton Lord-Lineley. My wife, Caroline née Bingley, is to reside in the dower house.’”
“What!” Mrs Lord-Lineley shrieked. “What brother?”
Barton stepped forward. “This brother.”
Mr Bingley joined the outrage, “What is this, your lordship?”
“I am not a lord, Bingley-boy. My name is ‘Barton Lord-Lineley,’ that is, ‘Mr Barton Lord-hyphen-Lineley.’”
“But your brother was a baron!”
“No, my brother’s name was ‘Baron, Mr Baron Lord-hyphen-Lineley.’”
“What about my sister’s entitlement?” Mr Bingley began to bluster.
“Aye,” Richard stepped forward, hand on the hilt of his sword, and grinned malevolently at Mr Bingley. “Your sister’s entitlement.”
“Mr Baron Lord-Lineley’s widow is entitled to live at the dower house …” started Mr Timpson.
“No, no! I am to be mistress of this estate! I am to hold parties and dinners!”
“… with a small stipend.”
“Ouch!” mumbled Mr Hurst.
“My dear sister-in-law, you can hold parties and dinners at the dower house.”
“Two guests at a time,” interjected Steven. “The dower house is not very big.”
“Indeed. ’Tis more of a cottage.”
“A hut.”
“A lean-to.”
Mrs Lord-Lineley shrieked and spluttered as an open bottle of smelling salts was pushed up her nose.
“Darcy! Darcy!” cried Mr Bingley. “Do something about this!”
“Indeed.” Darcy stepped forward. “I have some papers …”
“Aye, forged papers.”
“… declaring that you have been unable to consummate your marriage, ‘old chap.’”
“It is ‘wimmin’s troubles,’ I told you!”
Richard made a rude gesture. “Man’s troubles; your troubles.”
The new Mrs Wickham’s voice cut through the mocking laughter, “Does that mean that Jane’s husband is innocent?”
“No, darling Lydia, he is impertinent,” Mrs Bennet cried across the room. “Here, darling Lady Caroline, sniff this.”
Mrs Lord-Lineley snatched the smelling salts and threw the bottle, hitting Mr Wickham on the back of his head. Mrs Wickham took umbrage at the assault on her husband and threw the bottle back. It hit Mr Bingley. Mr Bingley picked up the bottle and sniffed its contents. Eyes watering, he blindly tossed it away. It landed in Mrs Hurst’s cup of tea. Mrs Hurst fished it out and lobbed it towards the colonel who —very neatly— flipped it away with his scabbard. Mrs Bennet caught it and again tried to wave it under Mrs Lord-Lineley’s nose.
Watching it all, Steven remarked, “Look, ‘in the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.’” He nudged Darcy. “Watch Mr Hurst.”
As if oblivious to the mayhem, Mr Hurst stood and strolled to the sideboard where he topped up his brandy glass.
Darcy thought that a brawl was brewing, so left them to it. His whole body was looking forward to seeing Miss Elizabeth and asking her to marry him.
Early the following morning, Darcy, Richard and Steven were about to leave, Barton having assured them that he would be well, when Messrs Bingley and Wickham stopped them.
“Tell Bingley that I get Longbourn!” cried Mr Wickham, sporting a black eye.
“No, I get Longbourn as I married the oldest sister,” protested Mr Bingley through split lips.
“I married first; I get it!”
The two brothers-in-law started to push and shove each other.
“Aye,” said Richard dismissively, watching their poor fighting techniques. “Shall we be off?”
“Indeed. ‘A man whose heart is set on returning home will fight to the death against any attempt to bar his way, and is therefore too dangerous an opponent to be tackled.’”
“Aye, but no-one is fighting you, Willy.”
As one, they mounted their horses and cantered away.
Chapter Fifty-six — In which a journey is started
Elizabeth
Waving tearful farewells to the Lucases, the caravan of carriages and a cart —Mrs Baker’s kitchen table and chairs and the wobbly wooden bench and the remaining trunks atop— set off.
Elizabeth knew that Charlotte had trusted only her mother with their new direction; and, as Jimmy at the Goat and Whistle was not known for his discretion, that Lady Lucas would journey to Hatfield to send and collect her daughter’s letters.
Mr Gardiner had planned their route and Elizabeth held a rough map and itinerary, showing it to Kitty.
“Where shall we stop tonight?”
“Uncle Gardiner says that we should reach Wood Burcote, a little south of Northampton. See his list,” Elizabeth pointed at the first portion of their long journey north, “we go about 45 miles today.”
“Forty-five miles!”
Mary and Charlotte were sharing a carriage with Mr Gardiner, while his wife sat with her other nieces.
“To think,” cried Kitty. “That the furthest that we have ever been before is the 25 miles to see you, Aunt.”
“Derbyshire is a long way from Meryton, niece,” said Mrs Gardiner with a smile.
Kitty took the map from her older sister and examined it. “We have 155 miles to go!”
“That is to Bakewell; it is about ten more miles to Lambton which is the village— ”
“Where you come from,” interrupted Kitty, addressing her aunt.
Elizabeth reclaimed the itinerary. “If you see, we have two long days to start— ”
“To get as far away as possible from that ‘darling’ Lydia, I know,” Kitty interrupted again.
Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner exchanged wry glances. Kitty was enthusiastic, that was what mattered.
“Yes, dear. And tomorrow, we should reach Leicester.”
Kitty retook the paper. “Where we spend two nights. I know that we ought not travel on Sundays, but will we be far enough away by then?”
“I hope so,” answered Elizabeth. “Remember that they do not know that we have left, nor where we are going.”
“Oh, and they might think that we have gone to see you in London,” Kitty said, indicating Mrs Gardiner.
“Indeed,” said Elizabeth, hoping that Mr Darcy would return and would understand her message.
‘A whole army may be robbed of its spirit; a commander-in-chief may be robbed of his presence of mind.’ Sun Tzu had written, but her small army must not lose spirit, thus Elizabeth would not lose her presence of mind.
Chapter Fifty-seven — In which a puzzle is discovered
Darcy
At last —at last!— the three cousins reached Meryton. Darcy and Steven rode straight to Longbourn, while Richard took the lane to Lucas Lodge.
Dismounting, they walked to the kitchen door where an unfamiliar face greeted them. “If you are ‘ere to call on the master, you must come back another day.”
“The master? Is that Mr Bingley?”
“No, ‘is name is Wi— ”
“Wickham?”
“No, sir! ’Is name is Williams.”
“And the family who lived here before?” Steven asked. “What has happened to them?”
The woman shrugged and closed the door.
“Blast!”
“Indeed! Let us to Lucas Lodge.”
At Lucas Lodge, they were greeted by Lady Lucas who sent them around the side to the garden where they found Richard slumped on a bench.
“She has gone!”
“They have gone!” said Robin.
The three cousins sat in a row, heads in hands.
“Gone.”
“Aye, gone.”
“Indeed.”
Their morose mourning was interrupted by Lady Lucas. In her wake was a maid carrying a tray of tea things. The men stood, but she bid them retake their seats. After the maid had bobbed a curtsey and left, she poured tea for them.
“Be not so glum,” she said.
“Glum.”
“Aye, glum.”
“Indeed.”
“For I have glad tidings.”
“Glad?” Steven sat up straighter.
“Aye, glad?” Richard sat up straighter.
“Indeed?” Darcy sat up straighter.
Lady Lucas passed a cup to Richard, a cup to Steven and a cup to Darcy.
Darcy nearly dropped it. Underneath the saucer was a package.
Wonder filled his face; the package was a white cotton handkerchief tied with a green ribbon.
He looked at Lady Lucas.
She looked back at him.
“Open it, Willy,” Steven urged him.
“Aye, give it here.”
Darcy slapped Richard’s hands away and loosened the bow, untied the knot and unfolded the cloth to reveal Miss Elizabeth’s cross. Inquisitive hands snatched it from him.
“I recognise this, having cleaned it,” said Steven.
“Aye, oh. Is this the very rescued red cross?”
Darcy did not pay attention to Steven’s reply, for, underneath the cross, were folds of paper. Half agony, half hope, he unfolded one to read:
My first is in THANK but not in YOU
My second is in PLEASE and also in COLONEL
My third is in FIND and also in ROBIN
My fourth is in US but not in PEAK
My fifth is in AT and also in DISTRICT
My sixth is in OUR but not in DERBY
My seventh is in NEW but not in ESTATE
My whole is our own jolly jape.
There were more pages with the same riddle: one copy for each cousin. He was impressed by her foresight and passed the copies to Steven and Richard.
“Aye, a billy-do … not. What is this?”
Silently, but concealing a laugh, Lady Lucas handed them paper and pencils.
“I have it,” cried Steven, eventually. “They are gone to Kentish Town.”
“Aye, good guess, Cock Robin. But no; it is Hadu Auw, a far flung outpost on the very edge of the empire, or in north Wales, me thinks.”*
“No, no! You have read it wrong, Dicky!”
Ignoring their squabbling, Darcy looked up at Lady Lucas who was no longer concealing her mirth, and mouthed, “Tenston? Derbyshire?”
She smiled broadly and nodded.
He stood and bowed over her hand then, impulsively, leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “Is there anything that they have forgotten that we could take for you?” he asked, softly.
She also rose to her feet, prompting the other men to do likewise.
“Have supper with us and rest overnight. I shall gather some bits and bobs together.”
Turning to look at his cousins, Darcy was delighted to see their faces puzzled for a change.
“Have you solved it?”
“Aye, have you found them?”
He allowed —nay, encouraged— a smug smile to spread over his face. “Indeed.”
“Where?”
“Aye, where?”
“Lady Lucas has kindly offered us supper and a bed. We shall set off in the morning.” He ignored their imprecations, offered their hostess his arm and went into the house.
Despite his urge to gallop after Miss Elizabeth, Darcy was pleased for the opportunity of bathing and a relaxed meal and a comfortable bed. Steven and Richard’s frustration was palpable, but Darcy convinced them that any time that they lost by not racing away immediately would be gained by their mounts having a proper rest. He refused to tell them their destination, as did their host.
Sir William freely admitted that he was not party to his daughter’s new location, saying, “I am the gossip in this household. My dear wife is the keeper of secrets, here.”
It was clearly a well-worn refrain, as the remaining Lucas offspring shook their heads in resigned amusement.
* sori!
Chapter Fifty-eight — In which the Peaks are sighted
Elizabeth
From Leicestershire, the Bennets’ caravan travelled to Derbyshire and its county town. Mr Gardiner had arranged another two-night stop there, and the young women in the party took the opportunity to shop. Mrs Gardiner had advised them that the weather would be colder there in the north, so they bought heavy woollen fabric for winter coats, lighter wool and thick cottons for dresses for both themselves and the servants. At a milliner’s shop, they found warmer bonnets, gloves and stockings.
Leaving Derby, they followed the increasingly hilly road to Belper, Matlock and thence to Bakewell. Necks craning at the carriage windows, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty and Charlotte marvelled at the landscape, so very different to the flatter terrain of Hertfordshire. Mr and Mrs Gardiner watched them with fond amusement.
Eventually they arrived at Bakewell, their final overnight stop before Tenston itself. Elizabeth was glad that they arrived early enough for a stroll around the town. This would be their nearest place to shop apart from the much smaller town of Lambton, so she took the opportunity to take note of its amenities.
She did not sleep well that night, her emotions a mixture of excitement and anxiety; she had brought her sisters, her friend and her servants to this strange place. What would Sun Tze have said, she wondered. Mmm: ‘Hence the saying: If you know the enemy and know yourself, your victory will not stand in doubt; if you know Heaven and know Earth, you may make your victory complete.’ But was there an enemy now? Or was the only enemy her own apprehension? She looked at the clock illuminated in the moonlight: it was after midnight, her birthday. Stop fretting, her heart ordered her brain, let us anticipate a fine day. Obeying, she finally slept.
Chapter Fifty-nine — In which a journey continues
Darcy
At breakfast, sporting with his cousins’ impatience, Darcy lingered at the table chatting with Sir William until Lady Lucas rose saying that she would have some victuals packed for their journey. The men thanked their hosts and took their leave.
“Where are they?”
“Aye, where are we going, Willy?”
Turning so that the morning sun was on his right shoulder, Darcy pointed to the north. “In that direction.”
Chapter Sixty — In which it is Michaelmas
Elizabeth
It was but ten miles from Bakewell to Tenston. To Elizabeth it seemed more like a hundred but, finally, they were there. The sisters had seen a drawing of the house and maps of the estate, neither had captured the beauty of it or of the surrounding hills. While Mrs Hill chivvied the other servants into the house, the sisters and Charlotte stood and looked. Looked at the front of the house, at its pale stonework, at the shrubs either side of the door. Looked at the drive and garden, some plants new to them. Looked at the farmland near the house and the tenant cottages. Looked at the spire of a small church in the distance. Looked at those glorious hills beyond. Elizabeth sighed, her feet itched to explore them.
But no, ‘the good general cultivates his resources.’ Tea and readying the kitchen must come first. Then we must set up the bedrooms.
Thanks to the efforts of Mr Gardiner’s men, most of their furniture was already unloaded and ready to put into the right rooms. While they had the carters’ help, Elizabeth and her sisters quickly decided where the larger pieces should go, drafting in Mr Onions and Ned too.
By supper time, they had chosen rooms, assigned furniture, made beds and were ready to rest. Mrs Gardiner suggested that they ate in the dining room and not squashed around the kitchen table. “You can relax now, Lizzy. You are free of them,” she said.
“There is still much to do,” Elizabeth protested.
“But it does not need doing this evening, this week or even this month,” her aunt replied.
“Listen to your aunt, Lizzy lass,” said Mr Gardiner. “You have done so very well, achieved so very much. Celebrate your success, especially as it is your birthday!” He leaned closer and kissed her cheek.
As none of the young women were accustomed to be idle when there was work to do, when they woke the following morning, they donned old day-dresses and continued the unpacking and arranging. Elizabeth was delighted to find her father’s old desk and chair in her new book-room. She took pleasure in fitting the books —her old friends— onto the shelves there, making sure to put certain books on the very top shelves, while keeping the book on mythical beasts close to hand. The ledgers for Tenston she would leave for a couple of days; her aunt and uncle had been correct, she did not need to do everything straightaway.
Charlotte and Kitty had been arranging the parlour, the latter particularly relishing placing their mother’s ornaments in just the right places. Elizabeth, Mary and the Gardiners had joined them there for tea and shortbread when Mrs Hill came in, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Miss Lizzy, there are callers.”
Elizabeth’s breath hitched; could it be Mr Darcy so soon?
Mrs Hill continued, “The lady says that she is your aunt.”
Their confusion plain, Elizabeth and her sisters looked at Mrs Gardiner: their aunt was in the parlour with them.
Behind Mrs Hill, a very small, very old woman came into view. Behind her —trying to conceal herself— was a much taller young woman.
Everyone stood to greet these guests and Mrs Gardiner sighed with relief.
“Aunt Prudence! How lovely to see you.”
“I thank you, distant niece, but it is always lovely to see me,” cried the old woman.
Elizabeth spoke. “Would you make the introductions, please, Aunt?”
“I cannot introduce you until I know your names,” protested the guest.
Elizabeth felt a little affronted until she spotted the twinkle in the older woman’s eye.
“Aunt Gardiner, would you make the introductions, please?”
“Lady Prudence, may I present my husband, Edward Gardiner …?”
“Is he a flirt?”
“No, my lady, he is not a flirt.”
“I shall teach him,” Lady Prudence winked at Mr Gardiner. “All young men ought to flirt with me, you know.”
“I should be delighted, my lady,” Mr Gardiner said as he bowed over the proffered hand.
“See, he is learning already.” Lady Prudence addressed the women in the parlour. “You will find that all men are slaves to my beauty.”
“Yes, madam, we can see that to be true,” said Elizabeth.
“Distant niece, tell me the names of these very distant nieces.”
“Very well,” replied Mrs Gardiner. She indicated each young woman as she spoke, “These are my nieces, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and her sisters, Miss Mary and Miss Catherine. And this is their dear friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas.”
The women curtseyed.
“I care not for the name ‘Catherine,’ so I shall call you ‘Kitty,’” said the visitor.
“I am usually called ‘Kitty,’ anyway, madam.”
“I knew that it would be so.”
“Husband, nieces, Charlotte, this is Lady Prudence Tenston.”
“‘Tenston?’” asked Elizabeth.
“Yes, now where is my distant niece?” She spun around while the younger visitor attempted to remain concealed. “There you are.” She pulled the blushing woman into view. “This distant niece is Miss Georgiana Darcy, the sister of my betrothed.”
“Your ‘betrothed?’” asked Elizabeth, all astonishment, as the parties exchanged courtesies. Mr Darcy could not be promised already, could he?
The younger guest, Miss Darcy, overcame her shyness sufficiently to protest, “N-no, Aunt. M-my brother is not betrothed to you!”
“From our earliest hours …”
“N-no, no. That is not so.” Miss Darcy looked earnestly at Elizabeth. “He has no attachment to our distant aunt.”
Lady Prudence spluttered. “It was the greatest wish of his mother and mine.”
Elizabeth then understood that that was Lady Prudence’s long-standing joke.
“Would you like to join us for tea, my lady, Miss Darcy?”
“Very well, but only if you have shortbread,” Lady Prudence sniffed, feigning disdain.
Fresh tea and shortbread arrived while Elizabeth was asking their guests about Tenston.
“It was my husband’s,” explained Lady Prudence. “After his death, I sold it to your father. Now,” she said, leaning over and patting Mr Gardiner’s knee, “he knew how to flirt.”
Elizabeth and her sisters snorted with laughter at the thought of their father flirting.
“He wrote to me, you know? Until he died.”
“No, I did not.”
“Begging me to reconsider his suit.”
“I wish that you had reconsidered, my lady,” sighed Elizabeth. “Then maybe— ” She could not continue and felt Kitty’s hand creep into her own.
“You must learn some of my philosophy, Miss Lizzy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure,” said Lady Prudence.
“That is a nice sentiment, my lady …”
“Aunt Prudence.”
“That is a nice sentiment, Aunt Prudence, but, without regret, how must one improve oneself?”
“I have never found it necessary,” Lady Prudence pronounced to their laughter.
Lady Prudence and Miss Darcy departed, saying that they would see them at the church in Lambton the following morning.
While pleased to have met some of their new neighbours, Elizabeth wished that she and her sisters had been more properly attired. To that wish, she could apply Lady Prudence’s sentiment, after all, Erasmus had said, ‘vestis virum facit.’ She assumed that clothes made a woman too, but no, it would not have done to be dressed in their limited finery while unpacking.
She thought that Miss Darcy seemed a pleasant young woman, not deserving of Mr Bingley’s dreadful blackmail, and looked forward to knowing her better.
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