William considered her question. “As we have nothing but suspicion, I do not think we must deny her any ability to move out of the house. When she goes, Thompson will accompany her, and I will assign another man to support him. So long as she remains nearby, there should be little danger.”
“I do not suppose anyone will be brazen enough to attempt an abduction,” said Mr. Bennet. “Mrs. Bennet will stay nearby too, and she will be as fierce as a tigress defending her cubs.”
“And my mother will join her,” added William. “For the moment, we are safe enough.”
Elizabeth turned to her husband. “How long do you intend to remain in London?”
“As you know, I would depart this moment if we did not need to uphold our position in society. There is no need to wait to partake of the dregs of society in June, but I had meant to stay at least until the end of May.”
“Which is yet another three weeks,” nodded Elizabeth. “If you wish to depart earlier, I have no objection.”
“Then let us reconsider in a week or two,” said Darcy.
“Very well,” said Mr. Bennet, rising to his feet. “Then I shall excuse myself. While I know my wife might consider my presence unnecessary, I can assist with the girls’ education.”
“Given the number of times you complained aboutmyeducation,” replied Elizabeth, “I am surprised you would submit to the same withthreeyoung ladies.”
Mr. Bennet grinned, his eyebrow quirked in challenge. “Perhaps you might think so, Lizzy, but that is only because I could not induce you to sit still for five minutes together.”
“I am quite recovered from that affliction, Papa.” Even Elizabeth could confess to a little primness in her tone. “Unless I am mistaken, I am the best educated of my sisters.”
“That you are, my dear. Yet you were a trial on our patience when you were a girl, for you wished to run with the boys rather than learn your letters. Lydia is also more than a little fidgety, but she has settled since coming to London.”
With that and a last wink, Mr. Bennet departed from the room. When he was gone, Elizabeth turned an arched brow on her husband, daring him to comment on her father’s words. William, proving that he was as intelligent as any man alive, laughed and refrained, instead taking her into his arms and holding her close.
“I shall say nothing, my beloved wife, for when you were five years old, I was at Eton or engaged in hijinks at home.”
“Good,” said Elizabeth. “I would not wish to punish you for speaking out of turn.”
“Never,” averred William. “I value your love too much to jeopardize it with poor attempts at humor.”
Elizabeth nodded and became serious. “I am still concerned about this situation, William. Mrs. Younge will not confess, and that establishes her guilt in my mind. She was not working alone. It is fortunate you never agreed to her requests, for Ishudder to think what might have happened if we had allowed it.”
“I never had any intention of agreeing.”
Drawing back, Elizabeth regarded him, her gaze searching. “As I recall, the last time she raised the subject, you put the matter to Georgiana.”
“Yes, I did,” agreed William. “My purpose was to learn if she would reveal anything. There was little chance of Georgiana agreeing on the scheme, particularly when she knew of Mrs. Younge’s opinion of Kitty and how it would separate her from her friend.”
“Then that is well,” agreed Elizabeth. “Let us consider when we might retire from London, William; I have little taste for revelry.”
“Do you not suppose all of society will look down on us and assume we are overwhelmed by it all?”
A sniff of utter contempt told William her feelings on the subject. “I care little for what they say, William. Let them gossip and speculate based on nothing more than rumor and hearsay. Those who matter will not allow such silliness to guide them.”
Her husband, it appeared, could not agree more.
Chapter XXXII
Henry Bennet was not a man given to excessive or even modest gestures of affection, even with those about whom he cared most. As a man who was not fond of society, whose only pleasure in it came from laughing at the folly of others, Bennet had long been more comfortable with his books than with other people. Had Bennet had the power of choice, he might have always confined himself to his library, eschewing all contact except for the occasional servant delivering meals.
That was ridiculous, of course, for no one could isolate themselves from their fellow man. As the master of an estate, a certain measure of congress with tenants, merchants, his fellow gentlemen, and others was a necessity, and while Bennet’s preference would have been to ignore such things, he had done his duty as well as he could. Though Bennet had put aside certain funds for the support of his wife and daughters in the event of his untimely demise, he appreciated the reality of Darcy’s marriage to Elizabeth, which, especially now that Darcy had inherited a grand estate, secured their futures. The potential ability to wrest Longbourn from Collins’s greedy hands was also a welcome development, for he suspected his wife would prefer to remain at Longbourn, even against the lure of living at Pemberley or Netherfield.
Speaking of his wife, Bennet noticed a change in her in the days after her removal to Darcy’s house. This change, he supposed, had begun when staying with the earl and countess,but it continued after assuming her self-appointed role as guardian of the youngest girls.
“Victoria!” exclaimed she the day after her arrival, when Mrs. Darcy joined their company. “How pleased we are that you have come!”
“Not at all, Margaret,” said Mrs. Darcy, her fondness for the other woman marked. “Hertfordshire was becoming quite dull, especially since your husband decided London consisted of greener pastures than Hertfordshire.”
