Mr Bennet rose and came to Elizabeth’s side. “Burns again?” He spoke softly, showing an anxious tenderness he seldom revealed.
Blinking back tears, she nodded. “He attacked me. Oh, Papa, I must protect my child. I cannot remain here. I shall send a note to Lady Matlock and Lady Westland, and we can be gone by morning.”
It was soon arranged. With Netherfield now let, Elizabeth intended to stay at Longbourn. After informing Jane, Elizabeth directed her new maid, Sarah, to pack her trunks. “Take everything. I do not know when I shall return.” As Sarah made her way to the dressing room, Elizabeth sat to write.
My dear friend,
You know somewhat of the trials that have befallen me since my husband’s passing. With my confinement so near, and danger still abroad, I have resolved to return to my father’s house. I shall write when I arrive.
I cannot say when we shall be once more in company. Perhaps you might come to visit in the winter. How I treasure you—your friendship has been, and still is, my comfort. Do not forget me.
Elizabeth
A similar note was sent to Lady Matlock. She then instructed the housekeeper that part of the staff must be released with letters of reference; only those needed to maintain the house properly in her absence were to be retained. The safes and lock boxes were emptied, their contents to be packed or deposited in the bank for safekeeping.
At dawn the next day, Elizabeth quitted the house that had been her gilded prison. Only when they stopped to rest the horses did she realise she had left no word for Mr Darcy.
Do not be foolish.It is not as though he will miss you. What hold could a widowed woman, heavy with child, have on a gentleman of fortune?
Still, she felt regret; he had been unfailingly kind, and she would miss his quiet conversation and steady regard. As she looked out on the road ahead, she could not shake the sense that something precious had been left behind in town.
He will remain the most amiable gentleman of my acquaintance. Yes—Mr Darcy will be the measure by which every man is judged.
Darcy
Five days. Five days since he had seen Elizabeth. What could have happened? Had the babe come too soon? Restlessly, he paced the study before resolving to call on Lady Westland. She was Elizabeth’s closest friend; surely, she would know where she had gone.
Yet he hesitated. He detested the notion of his affairs becoming the subject of speculation. If he went to Lady Westland, she would perceive his interest—and even he was uncertain how far that interest extended. He admired Elizabeth, of that much he was sure. But did he truly know her? Her husband had been a gentleman, and she must once have loved him dearly; the pain of it showed each time his name arose.
Perhaps she left because I was too forward.At three-and-twenty, Darcy knew little of the art of courtship. He had thought himself discreet, but perhaps he had unwittingly alarmed her.It would be wrong to intrude,he told himself with a sigh.She needs time to mourn.
Determined to give her that time, Darcy refrained from calling on Lady Westland, trusting that Elizabeth would soon return to town. She never did. And Darcy, in the pride of youth, refused to seek her out. Sometimes, when solitude pressed heavily, he wondered whether he had imagined her—an ideal formed from memory and longing rather than the woman herself.
As the years passed, the lovely young widow became the measure by which he judged all other women. However long he searched, none compared withhisElizabeth.
Chapter Seventeen
September 1811
Longbourn
Elizabeth
“MrBennet!MrBennet!Why did you not tell me, you sly man?” Mrs Bennet bustled into the library, her whole frame quivering with excitement. “And you, Elizabeth, I should have thought you would be eager to share!”
Elizabeth and her father looked up from the account books spread between them. Mr Bennet set aside his quill. “I assume you are referring to Netherfield Park’s new tenant?” His eyes gleamed mischievously.
“How you delight in teasing me!” Mrs Bennet crossed to him in high spirits. “It will never change, will it?”
“Indeed, no, dear wife. I take far too much pleasure in the activity to abandon it entirely.” His smile deepened. “If it eases your comfort, Elizabeth knew nothing of the new tenant either. I meant to inform her later, once the papers were signed. It seems that Mr Morris has spread the news faster than we anticipated.”
Mr Andrew Morris was the land manager Elizabeth had employed to oversee the affairs of Netherfield. He was yet another of her husband’s victims—the fourth son of a gentleman who had borrowed funds to begina modest venture. It had failed in the worst of ways, depriving him not only of his capital but of his reputation. Wilkens had found him labouring in one of London’s poorest districts, abandoned by his family because of the scandal. Fortunately for Elizabeth, he proved capable and a good man at heart, though inclined to gossip.
“Well, do not delay! Tell me of this new tenant. Surely, you have met him.” Mrs Bennet rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder, her face alight with anticipation. “I do hope there is a lady with whom I can be friendly. Much as I love our neighbours, a new face would be most agreeable.”
Elizabeth marvelled, as she often did, at the transformation in her parents’ union. Though she had been home these four years, it still surprised her. When she had married and left Longbourn, her mother and father had lived almost as strangers. Papa had teased and belittled; Mama had fretted and encouraged foolishness in her daughters. Now, her mother’s fears at rest, she had grown lively and affectionate—more like the woman he had loved when they married; and he, softened by gratitude, had learnt to show greater consideration for her feelings and more interest in her pursuits.
“Please tell us, Papa,” Elizabeth looked up from her account book. “I had no notion that anyone had shown interest in Netherfield. It has been vacant for nearly a year—since the Smith family quitted the place.”
