Goodly Creatures: A Pride and Prejudice Deviation (53 page)

Finally she shrugged her shoulders and said, “Lydia saw the dress packed away in a trunk, and she and Kitty insisted on redesigning the gown because, as you probably remember, I was smaller when it was first made. It is so altered that I am surprised you recognized it.”

Darcy noticed Miss Elizabeth had avoided his gaze. In an effort to avoid the pathos in her words, he concentrated on her refusal to allow him to see her eyes instead.

“I am no longer as I was. Was it your intention to ignore our previous history as we waltzed about the room? You told me recently how much you deplore deceit in women. Is not your position somewhat hypocritical?’’ She wanted to see his reaction to her questions. She sought his eyes but was unable to read them. When he said nothing, she whispered her deepest regret. “For the first time in many years, I allowed myself to feel pretty.”

Lizzy felt she was losing the war to gain his good opinion and turned her gaze away again. This time she looked out over the meadow. She could see smoke rising from some of the tenants’ cottages, and envied what she thought was a simpler life. Now bitterness crept into her voice. “I am sure you had to listen to gossip about us, but I warned you it would happen. Rumour and innuendo have been my constant companions for many years.”

Mr Darcy wished she would look at him again. The stories he had endured listening to had been about Miss Elizabeth and Wickham. Fear of betrayal was still fresh in his mind. When she said nothing more to defend herself, he spoke the only words he knew to be true. “I have no right to worry about gossip. I asked you to dance.”

Elizabeth was unable to hold back her anger. It was not what he had said, but what he had not. He would be leaving today, and she would be left to endure all the gossip their very public display of animosity would generate. Words and accusations began to tumble out in no organized order. “Yes, and I foolishly agreed. Did you determine that your request had been ill conceived—upon seeing Wickham kissing my hand or when you noticed the dress I was wearing? Did the degradation of publicly partnering someone from a family that thinks nothing of allowing a daughter to marry your housekeeper’s nephew give you pause? Or perhaps you heard some particularly juicy gossip about me.” Caliban was on his feet growling in tune with her acrimony. “The most vicious rumours imply I could possibly be a woman who exchanges favours for money. Were you frightened my mother would draw the wrong impression, and tell everyone your waltzing with me meant an offer of marriage was imminent? What an unmitigated disaster that would be, because you are raising the proof that I am not fit to be any honourable man’s wife.” After her diatribe was ended, she cajoled her dog to settle down and turned her eyes from the meadow back to Darcy. The lingering disapproval on his noble mien annoyed her.

Oddly, Mr Darcy’s voice was quiet and choked with emotion when he spoke. He was most troubled that she seemed to believe he thought her a whore, but could not bring himself to address that topic. He feared he had been influenced by Caroline’s laughter at breakfast and decided he must clarify his position on her family. “Miss Elizabeth, I do not disapprove of the marriage of Miss Catherine to Mr Reynolds. He is an honourable man, and to whom he is related is of no concern to me.” Mr Darcy paused for a moment. Doubt that he might be falling for false words once again, forced him to make his voice stronger. “However, your family, or at least you, have proven to me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to be mercenary. We differ greatly on this point, because I do not believe you think what you did wrong.” He saw her eyes narrow at his mild accusation and again anger took over. “Your history tells me I
should
be wary that you might be conspiring with Wickham to obtain money from me—perhaps this time through your association with Mrs Younge.” Now she was looking confused. He decided to finish his explanation with a flourish and said emphatically. “I have learned since coming to Hertfordshire that you learned your greedy ways from your mother—but unlike you she is also vulgar. It is your youngest sister who takes after her in that regard. All last evening, I watched as she was inappropriately familiar with the officers.”

This time, Elizabeth calmed both her dog and her own fury before she spoke. “First let me defend my sister. She has only been out a month, and is very exuberant. Currently, her whole world is wearing pretty clothes, flirting and dancing. If you look a little deeper, you will see she is a very sensible girl, and the opposite of a fortune hunter. She has little regard for those of wealth and power. Recently she spoke of the
ton
as
‘takers’
while officers were
‘givers.’
She is of the opinion they make tremendous sacrifices for the rest of the populace.”

Elizabeth could see he was considering her argument. She decided to press her advantage. “Despite her exuberance, her feet are firmly planted in reality. For example, Mr Wickham was seen through by her within minutes—even with his fine looks and great charm. She told me he kept turning the conversation around to ask about me and quickly deduced he was after my inheritance. I am very proud of her ability to see his true nature.” Believing now might be an opportune time to introduce her fears for Miss Darcy she added, “You have a sister, so you must know how difficult it is to make certain at that tender age that they have the ability to sketch their acquaintances’ characters accurately. I was not as mature as Lydia is in that regard when I was fifteen.”

Darcy’s suspicion that she had conspired with Wickham through her association with Mrs Younge returned when she mentioned Miss Darcy. Fear that his sister’s disgrace might become a topic for the gossips in Meryton caused him to act. He scowled at her and again spoke loudly. “Leave my sister out of our discussion. You do not know her and have no right to speak of her character.”

Caliban’s growl at his harsh tone momentarily captured his attention. Elizabeth, who had been unprepared for Mr Darcy’s reaction, looked away and composed herself. She was determined she would not let lose her temper again. She decided it was time to address his most important criticism.

Despite her best effort, her tone barely concealed her anger. “I have no agreement to do anything with Mr Wickham, but I am afraid of what he knows and is planning. You insist on thinking me mercenary, and you are correct, of course. As I told you before, I was wrong to ask for money that day at Darcy House. Your cousin and your wife robbed me of something most precious, and I childishly decided they should pay reparations; instead I was persuaded to sell my baby. I have used the money wisely, and in the process, I hope I have made my mother less covetous of other’s good fortune.”

He made no attempt to conceal the ire in his voice. He was certain he was being influenced by Miss Elizabeth’s guile once again. All her family had made certain he knew how wisely she had used her ‘inheritance’. Then there was the matter of how she had hinted at the sadness she felt at being denied having Bethany in her life. Now, she was playing on those emotions and blaming Anne for her loss. “Once again, I insist you leave my wife out of our discussion. She is not here to defend herself against your ridiculous accusations. However, I must point out you have failed in your attempt to make your mother less avaricious. She and your older sister were obvious in their intentions last night.”

Elizabeth was tired of their conversation. She had failed. It was important for her peace of mind to at least respect Mr Darcy. He was raising her child. If they continued to spar on these subjects, her animosity would only grow, and it would be the cause of more sleepless nights. All she wanted right now was to be away from him and rejoin her family… her loud, exuberant, mercenary, vulgar, but loving siblings and parents. It was obvious he was determined to think poorly of her and her family, and sometime during their conversation, she had lost her desire to persuade him. Still, she could not resist one parting shot. With her archly sweet smile firmly in place she said, “My older sister seems like a fortune hunter to you? Why? Did she act like Miss Bingley last night?”

His tone was gruff. “Let us agree to disagree. We are never going to be of one mind on this subject. I think I must be getting back. I am leaving for Pemberley today. I must be home for Bethany’s birthday.”

His words brought on a wave of the pesky longing she had been experiencing. “What are you giving her?”

He still continued to scowl at her. “A pony.”

“You do remember that I left a present to be given to her one day? It is what my parents gave me on my fifth birthday.”

He softened a bit as he said, “Who should I tell her gave her the present?”

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “Tell her the truth… her mother left it for her. That expression will signify nothing. Is there anything else she has asked for?”

“She wants me to stop calling her Baby Duck.”

Lizzy’s longing exploded into overwhelming loss. She tried to remain composed as she said, “That is most appropriate. She is, after all, practically grown up. A name with baby in it must be most offensive to her, even if said with love.”

Darcy could see how uncomfortable she had become. The anger Miss Elizabeth had displayed before was long gone. Her sadness about Bethany seemed genuine, and he began to fear he had been wrong to think her feelings were only displayed to influence him. Still, he had been ridiculous to think there might be a future for the two of them. They were from different worlds. He rose and wrapped his jug and mug in his blanket. He bowed to her and said, “Miss Elizabeth, let us part and hope we do not encounter one another any time soon.”

Elizabeth gave him a tired smile. “That is my fondest wish as well, Mr Darcy.”

He turned, and slowly walked down the path toward his horse. Their exchange left him troubled. Her mother had said she was enamoured of Wickham, but she had said he frightened her. He should have tried to determine what that meant. He had only gone about fifty feet when he heard Caliban barking and Miss Elizabeth quieting him.

“Hush, Caliban, he did not hurt me. I must… I must believe he is a good man. What is most true is that I do not understand him. First he admires me… then he disapproves of me… he comes to Hertfordshire and suddenly he acts as though he loves me… his depraved cousin’s devious friend makes an appearance and his affection turns to hate. I was a fool to play Mr Darcy’s insufferable game. I never wanted his love—I only wanted his good opinion.”

Her words filled him with doubt. He thought he might have heard her crying, but was not sure. Suddenly her voice was clear and strong as she said, “One thing is for certain… Mrs Darcy did not confess as she promised.” Caliban barked as though in agreement.

He heard her sigh and then nothing more, for she began to play her instrument again. The tune was the one he had heard her sing to Bethany. He continued on down the path until he was out of hearing distance.

He did not know that she abruptly stopped playing and said, “Oh Caliban, I never told him what Mr Wickham is saying, or that I am afraid for Miss Darcy. And who is this Mrs Younge he accused me of conspiring with?”

38 WHAT’S DONE IS DONE

Elizabeth continued to play her Irish whistle in an attempt to look forward to the renewal of routine and normalcy Mr Darcy’s absence would bring. A shiver of dread and the morning chill combined within her. In response, she wrapped the blanket around her for warmth. His disapproval toward her would probably mean he would encourage his friend to stay away as well. She had been so involved in her own anticipation of waltzing, that she had not paid proper attention to her sister’s growing attachment. Once again, she feared she had failed Jane.

Thoughts of her sister gave way to the belief she had an obligation to Miss Darcy. That sweet, motherless child had only her naive, witless brother to confide in during her most vulnerable years. She doubted the rumours Wickham was spreading about Mr Darcy really mattered to him. Still, the need for revenge embodied in Wickham’s idle talk made her realize how this charming fortune hunter could easily attempt to hurt Miss Darcy.

It was as she was turning over their different approaches to propriety that she remembered who Mrs Younge was. Her recollection only made her question his powers of deduction all the more. She had barely had any conversation with the widow during their journey to London—in the interest of not accidentally divulging any information about her identity. It had been Mr Darcy who had insisted she must travel with a companion, and he had hired her. He had cared more for the illusion of proper decorum than he had for protecting Elizabeth’s secret. Now he was accusing her of joining with that woman in a conspiracy to extort money. The man was positively delusional!

The guilt she felt for not warning Miss Harding flooded back. It was her duty to advise Mr Darcy of her fears for his sister. Let propriety be damned—she would write him a letter! The insufferable man already thought her guilty of depraved behaviour. Would one more piece of evidence cause him to treat Bethany any different?

Elizabeth became distracted as she sifted through the images of her daughter that had been revealed in the past weeks—her hair, playing chess with her father, speaking for her brother. To put an end to the bitter ache they evoked, she allowed a renewal of anger toward Mr Darcy and his disreputable family. How dare he judge her, her sisters or her mother for that matter? None in her family had ever done anything to hurt another.

Mrs Darcy had not confessed; and he refused to even listen to her attempt to tell him of her betrayal. His wife’s precious memory was more important to him than Elizabeth’s own living reputation. She would write a letter that only told him of her fears for Miss Darcy. Wickham’s words against him were not worth her concern.

For Elizabeth, a keen awareness of her limited life was the chief outcome of his sojourn in Hertfordshire. He would go back to his lovely estate, and ride out with his beautiful children each morning. Collecting his first editions, paintings and orchids would occupy his leisure time, and all of Derbyshire would think him a good man. One day he would find another wife—perhaps while in London—perhaps at the theatre. Elizabeth took pleasure in the certainty that the new Mrs Darcy would be unable to make him laugh. A wife without a sense of humour, and perhaps even often cross, would do for him very well. She quickly snuffed out an image of him dancing with another.