Page 45 of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Exile

If Father were alive, Darcy would have to agree that he had chosen well for his bride. There could not be a finer, more suitable partner in life for him than Elizabeth Bennet. Sweet melancholy swelled in his throat. How differently he would speak to his father if he had the chance to relive his youth! He would be more understanding of the man’s faults and make a greater effort to find things on which they could agree. He would show gratitude for all the things the man had done well and forgive the rest.

Elizabeth paused, her posture stiffening and her voice tense. “I shall never forgive Papa for what he has done to them.”

Her words took the wind out of Darcy’s lungs. In a flash of bitter memories, he was tramping out of his father’s study, leaving his family ring on the desk, severing ties with everyone and everything he held dear. Yes, he had created a life he loved, had made friends who were as close as family. But his father was gone, and Darcy would trade his success for even just one day with him. He did not wish this kind of regret on Elizabeth. “Resentment harms the bearer of the sentiment more than it does its source. Pray, do not shackle yourself to it.”

She stopped on the path at the edge of Meryton and turned to face him fully, her eyes searching his face. He should not have revealed as much of himself as he had. He sensed that she saw right through him, could read his secrets. “You speak from experience?”

“I do.” He risked discovery, but he did not look away, emphasizing the gravity of his statement and hoping his words would spare her from preventable pain.

A carriage rolled by, and a high-pitched sing-song voice shouted, “Lizzy!” from the window accompanied by a protruding waving hand. It was the Bennet carriage. Rolling to a stop near the haberdashery, the stable boy hopped down from his narrow perch beside the coachman to open the door and lower the step for Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, and the two youngest.

Elizabeth slipped her hand out of the crook of his arm and stepped away. Without another word, she walked to them. Darcy followed, wondering if he had revealed too much. He prayed that Elizabeth’s nature would prove to be more forgiving than his had ever been.

CHAPTER 25

Elizabeth tried to recall how closely she and Robinson had been standing when the carriage passed, how they would have looked to her mother and sisters. Disgusted with how quickly her thoughts had turned to appearance when she had done nothing wrong, she straightened her shoulders and produced a smile she was determined to feel by the time the two of them reached the carriage.

“Mama, I did not know you intended to come into the village, or I would have waited for you.” Her mother’s narrowed eyes flickered between her and Robinson, but Elizabeth refused to allow any guilt to dampen her smile. They had been discussing important business. There was nothing wrong with that. In fact, considering how her family would be impacted, they ought to expect Elizabeth to consult with Robinson. It was the reason he was in Father’s employ!

Jane replied, “You left in a hurry without telling anyone where you were.” As Elizabeth often did. What of it? Thoroughly convinced of her rightness, Elizabeth met her withering glare. If only her sister understood, she would not disapprove. Jane added, “Hill suggested that you might have gone into Meryton to call on Aunt Philips.”

Ah! Dear Hill! Grateful for the reasonable explanation, Elizabeth said, “I apologize for causing you concern. I wished for some fresh air and exercise, and I have not called on Aunt in some time. Given the gravity of recent events, I wished to ascertain whether she has heard any talk about us.” Now that she said the words aloud, she realized the intelligence of Hill’s suggestion. If the Bennets were being gossiped about, Aunt Philips would know. She could be a helpful ally to squash any of it, so they would do well to appease her with a friendly call.

“Why would people talk about us?” Lydia asked, perplexed. Her ignorance was evidence of how ill-prepared her sisters were for the dreary future ahead of them.

“Did you intend to call on my sister in the company of your father’s secretary without a chaperon?” asked Mama, more to the point. “If your intention is to prevent gossip, you have a peculiar way of going about it.”

Unaccustomed to her mother’s censure and with her confidence already wavering, Elizabeth faltered. She opened her mouth, but no explanation came. All she could think of was how devastated her family would be when they had to leave Longbourn… unless Mr. Darcy made an appearance. Her stomach clenched.

Robinson spoke. “You are right to insist on a chaperone.” Elizabeth could not prevent her gaze from snapping to him. He was supposed to take her side, not her mother’s. “These are dangerous times we live in,” he continued, “and as an attentive mother, it does you credit to concern yourself over the welfare of your daughters.” Elizabeth could not rightly argue with that, though she wished to. Good sense prevented her from saying a word.

“Ah, well. Lizzy is with us now, and we shall see her to my sister’s.” With that, Mama turned away from him and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm to jerk her away, turning her daughter’s farewell into an unseemly squeal.

Elizabeth knew she frowned, and she could not help it. Mama’s manners were too dismissive. Robinson was in every way kind and gentlemanly. Had her mother no expression of gratitude to spare for him seeing Elizabeth safely to Meryton when the world was fraught with so much peril? Apparently not.

Mama marched them past him with nary another word, only stopping when she spotted the Bingleys approaching from the other direction. “Ah, there is Mr. Bingley and his fashionable sisters.” She raised her arm to wave. At the same time, Mrs. Hurst pointed at something at the other side of the street. Elizabeth did not see anything noteworthy by the butcher’s shop, unless one considered the profusion of flies to be significant, but Miss Bingley saw what her sister did. The two practically ran to get a closer look, leaving Mr. Bingley standing alone and scratching his head until he noticed Mama greeting him.

He lifted his hat in a hearty salutation, eyes crinkling and teeth showing as he closed the distance between them. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Bennet.” His eyes landed on Jane and stayed there. “What a pleasure it is to see you and your lovely daughters on this fine day.”

Jane stiffened, her smile pinched. Mama, content with Mr. Bingley’s happiness at their presence, smiled enough for the both of them, as did Kitty and Lydia, who always smiled at handsome men.

A hiss was issued from across the street. “Charles!” They all looked to see Miss Bingley in the doorway of the butcher’s shop, her waving motion either intended to swat at the flies or summon her brother; one would have difficulty determining which was true.

Mr. Bingley sighed and looked awkwardly about. Finally, his smile fully faded, he lowered his voice. “If you require any assistance, I would consider it an honor to be of help.” Apparently, word had spread. Elizabeth had known it would happen but had not supposed news would travel so quickly.

“I assure you, Mr. Bingley, we are in no need of assistance.” Either Mama feigned ignorance, or she had not yet comprehended the extent of their ruination.

With a bow of his head, Mr. Bingley placed his hat atop his head, smiled at them once more and, with some hesitation, crossed the street to join his sisters.

Mama puffed out her chest. “To think that he, the son of a tradesman, might be useful to us, a family with connections in the first circles!”

The look Jane shared with their mother left a sour taste in Elizabeth’s mouth. “I am certain his offer was given with good motive.”

Ignoring her, Mama pulled her into the haberdashery. “I wish to see if anything new has arrived from London before we call at my sister’s.”

Mrs. Long was there, as were Mr. Wren and Miss Gray. Each of them mumbled a greeting and left the haberdashery, the bell on the door echoing louder in the empty space they left behind. Elizabeth’s heart sank. Granted, the Hertford bailiff was known to many in Meryton, and the customs official would have been easy to identify with his formal manners and somber expression. She had not expected to be treated like a leper by her neighbors, however.

“Perhaps we ought to go to Aunt’s directly, Mama.” But her mother would not hear it. Not when there was a new shipment of lace and fabric to admire.