Page 52 of Conundrums & Coincidences

The two of them sat facing one another across Mr Gardiner’s rosewood desk. Libation had been offered, but Darcy had declined, preferring to keep a clear head. He was a private person and not accustomed to divulging intimate information; but for Elizabeth, he would bare his very soul.

Frankly and eloquently, he avowed his abiding admiration and love for the man’s second daughter; and he spoke of the offer he had made at Hunsford and of being rejected and why.

“Also, for Miss Elizabeth’s sake, I secretly withdrew from the tournament so that she might have an added advantage. Please keep that to yourself. She knows nought of it.”

Mr Bennet merely raised his eyebrows. “If you are trying to convince me you are worthy of my Lizzy, you are going about it all wrong. My clever girl would have won the legacy without your forfeit.” He paused for a sip of port. “You come in here, boasting of your sacrifice and your chivalry. But, no matter what you say of such generosity, you merely want control of my daughter’s wealth.”

Fairly vibrating with indignation, Darcy put his final card upon the table. “As my wife, her fifty thousand pounds and Oakwood Manor itself will be safeguarded within the marriage settlement, in Elizabeth Darcy’s name. And, if you truly have her best interests at heart and want to maintain the special bond the two of you have shared, you will let Miss Elizabeth marry as she wishes. Withholding your consent will not achieve your goal, Mr Bennet. Once she reaches her majority, she and I shall wed, with or without your blessing. If you refuse to sanction our union, you risk estrangement from your favourite daughter.”

You do not deserve her precious love. Darcy sketched an obeisance and strode from the room, leaving the man to ponder a course of action.

Mr Bennet was right about one thing: chances are that clever Elizabeth would have won without my interference.

25

HER FATHER’S HOUSE

After attending Sunday services at St Peter upon Cornhill, the seven of them—Mr and Mrs Gardiner and their two daughters and Mr Bennet with a pair of his—walked along Gracechurch Street. While Mattie and Evie behaved like genteel young ladies, Lydia did nothing but loudly complain; and her father did nothing to correct her recalcitrant, childish conduct. The little boys, who had been left at home with their nurse, probably would have been better behaved than their sixteen-year-old cousin.

Duly ashamed of her father and sister, Elizabeth was thankful Mr Darcy was not there to further witness her family’s delinquencies. Her thoughts could not long stray from images and thoughts of him. Someday he and I shall be announced as Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy. She smiled to herself.

Her love had not been a sudden thing, although physical attraction had begun the instant Elizabeth had set eyes on him at the Meryton assembly. Her dislike of his general behaviour had sharpened into particular resentment that same night because of a disrespectful remark. The cutting barb had wounded her pride and festered into prejudice; but the passage of time had healed the injury.

In Kent, seeds of love had been planted by a heartfelt declaration and by words upon pages written to her. A change of sentiment had taken root with each subsequent reading of that letter. At Oakwood, in sunshine and in rain, gratitude and esteem had sprouted. Affection had grown stronger, and her love bloomed and flourished with each passing day.

Was it not strange how quickly a person’s profound feelings could change? Feelings she once thought immutable. Dislike to romantic love. Paternal love to disappointment. The special bond she had shared with her father withered on the vine. Perhaps that was natural.

The sermon given during that morning’s service had included a psalm encouraging women to forget their people and their fathers’ houses to live harmoniously in their husbands’ homes. To Elizabeth’s disgust, there also had been a quote from the Bible advising fathers to utterly refuse to give their daughters in marriage to men they did not approve of.

The eleventh of July could not come quickly enough.

Lost in thought, Elizabeth had outpaced the others and was startled when Lydia caught up with her.

“Lizzy, what business do you have with an attorney? I just overheard Papa mention to my aunt and uncle something about a meeting you and he have in the morning.”

“I promise that Mama and all my sisters will learn of it when we are reunited on the morrow.”

“You might as well tell me now, for I shall have far better things to do tomorrow. Kitty will be wild to hear all about Brighton…as will Maria Lucas and Harriet and Pen Harrington and Aunt Philips. La! I shall be ever so busy and in demand!” She sighed dramatically. “But how shall I survive without the officers? Particularly my very own lieutenant! But I suppose you do not care to hear about my Wicky lest you become wretchedly unhappy and expire from jealousy.”

“My infatuation was but a momentary lapse—a slight, thin sort of inclination.” Elizabeth smiled secretly, remembering a conversation at Netherfield with Mr Darcy on the effects of poetry. “I pray, Lydia, that your little fever of admiration will be as fleeting.”

Lydia stopped and stamped her foot. “No. It is not like that for Wicky and me. My misery upon parting from him is of the highest extreme, and I imagine his is far worse. Why do you smile so?”

“It was just something you said, my dear giddy sister. Honestly, I can sympathise with you.”

“And well you should. I do not know what is to become of me without my Wicky. What am I to do?”

“What are you to do? You could begin by ceasing all reference to him in that manner. That sobriquet sounds positively vulgar. True ladies are supposed to feign a swoon upon hearing anything remotely crude.”

“Oh, what do you know, Lizzy? Besides, I am too lively to ever faint. I had such fun in Brighton! What were you doing while I was gone? Oh Lord, I forgot. Your letter mentioned a house party somewhere. Did you meet any handsome men? Did you flirt? If you asked me those questions, I would answer yes to both. How I long to return to the seaside! We all should go there for the summer. What a delicious scheme, do you not think so? I dare say it would cost hardly anything at all. And we must have new gowns for all the balls we shall attend.” Glancing behind at the others, she whispered, “But Papa is being terribly disagreeable.”

He is, indeed, sister dear.

In such affliction as rendered her careless to surrounding objects, Lydia nearly tripped over a broken cobble. “Lord, Lizzy, why did you not warn me? I could have fallen and broken my head. Alas, it is my heart that breaks.” She placed a hand upon her bosom. “Where is my heart? I cannot feel it. I cannot feel my heart!” Turning, she ran back, calling, “Aunt Gardiner! Aunt Gardiner, I cannot feel my heart!”

Elizabeth wanted to be diverted by her youngest sister’s folly, but her own best source of happiness was somewhere in the west end, on some fashionable street or square, in a town house she had yet to set eyes upon. Already, she missed him. What was she to do? If she acted in a manner that would constitute her own happiness, she would be compelled to forget her family and her father’s house.

Lydia’s was not the only heart breaking.