Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 (20 page)

‘My Lizzy!’ he said with a smile. ‘What can I do for you, my dear?’

Elizabeth did not like what she was about to do but she knew it must be done.

‘Papa, I must speak to you. Lydia has been invited to Brussels by Colonel and Mrs Forster. Both Lydia and Mamma are in raptures, but Mamma has said that Lydia must ask your permission. Has she yet done so?’

‘No. I have not had that pleasure,’ remarked her father drily. ‘But Lydia knows better than to disturb me in my library. That is a luxury I extend to you and Jane only, my Lizzy.’

‘Then I must ask you to refuse your permission,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Lydia’s behaviour is wild and unruly. Even here, in Meryton, she is gaining a reputation. If she goes to Brussels it will be ten times worse. There will be a lot more temptations there than here, and she is already talking of all the officers she will meet, as well as dukes and princes.’

Mr Bennet chuckled.

‘Never fear, dukes and princes will not be in the slightest bit interested in Lydia. It will do her good to learn her place. She will soon find out that she is the daughter of a country squire and that great men look higher for their brides.’

Elizabeth felt an uncomfortable moment, for she knew that one great man, at least, had not looked higher than the daughter of a country squire. Or, that he wished to look higher but had overcome his wishes in order to propose to her.

‘Then you mean to let her go?’ asked Elizabeth.

She was downcast.

‘I do. Lydia will never be content until she has exposed herself in a public place, and where else can she do it with so little trouble and expense to her family as in Brussels? Her behaviour on the Continent will not be known here. She can rid herself of her wild spirits, and her delusions of grandeur, without troubling the rest of us.’

‘I fear that her conduct will not pass unnoticed and might become truly scandalous if she is away from her family,’ Elizabeth argued. ‘If you only knew what trouble it had already caused.’

Mr Bennet looked surprised at this.

‘Has she scared away some of your suitors, my Lizzy? If so, they were not worth having. A man who cannot put up with a little folly in his relatives is not a man I would like to see married to you, for you love to laugh, and any man who marries you must love to laugh, too.’

‘Oh, Papa, laughing is one thing, but condoning folly is another.’

She tried to make him see the seriousness of the situation, telling him that if he did not curb Lydia soon then it would be too late, for her character would be fixed. But Mr Bennet preferred to laugh at his family instead of trying to correct them.

Elizabeth was dismayed. Her family were confirming Mr Darcy’s bad opinion of them, Lydia by being a flirt and Mr Bennet by being lazy.

At last she had to accept her father’s answer and she left him feeling disappointed and sorry. She went for a walk in the garden, taking comfort from the spring flowers which were bedecking the flower beds, and then took more comfort from Jane when she went indoors. But she was still heartsore by the end of the day. The only thought that consoled her was that soon she would be touring the Lake District with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.

Mrs Gardiner was a sensible woman and Elizabeth knew that, with her aunt, she would have a respite from the vexations of her family life. She knew her aunt would feel for her in her troubles, and if she could not suggest a remedy she would at least have some words of wisdom to impart. So Elizabeth sat down and wrote to her, telling her that Lydia had been invited to Brussels. She recounted her anxieties and asking her aunt for advice.

Then, having done all she could, she went downstairs for supper.

Mr Darcy was feeling morose. It was now a week since Elizabeth Bennet had rejected him and it had been a very uncomfortable week. He had been staying with his Aunt Catherine at Rosings Park when he had met Elizabeth again, after an initial meeting in Meryton the previous year. He had been surprised by the strength of his feelings for her. They had intensified over the winter, so that he had found himself falling in love with her.

He had tried to fight it but he had been unable to overcome his feelings. And so, one evening, he had walked down to the parsonage, where she was staying with her friend Mrs Collins, the rector’s wife, and proposed.

He had expected her to be flattered and delighted, and to accept him on the spot.

But, instead, she had been angry and insulted.

When he had finally come to a halt, she had rejected his proposal. Even worse, she had told him he was not a gentleman.

He was angry even now when he thought about it. He, Fitzwilliam Darcy, not a gentleman? Why, he had been a gentleman all his life! He had been born a gentleman, and raised a gentleman, and he was one of the finest gentlemen in the land! He came from an old and very well respected family and any other young lady would have been swooning with rapture if he had so much as hinted he was going to propose. Miss Bingley would probably have fainted clean away!

And so he had gone back to Rosings and written Elizabeth a long letter, exonerating himself from any blame regarding his conduct to Miss Jane Bennet. He had also excused himself where Mr Wickham was concerned. He had met Elizabeth the following morning and he had given her the letter with a haughty bow. Then he had stalked away. Soon afterwards, he had left Rosings Park and returned to London.

He ought, by rights, to have forgotten her. Such an ungrateful young woman was not worth remembering. But the more he tried to forget her, the more he remembered.

He remembered the tone of her voice when she had told him he was not a gentleman. He remembered her expression when she said, “You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”

The words still stung. Even though it was now a week ago, he was still angry with her. He had done nothing wrong. He had been honest, that was all. He was blameless. But that did not alter the fact that he had proposed and been rejected, and so he must forget her.

It was easy to say, however, and difficult to do. No matter how hard he tried, he could not forget her. He kept seeing her face and hearing her voice as she said,
had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner
. Those words ran through his head again and again.

‘ . . . Darcy!’

Belatedly, he realised his cousin was talking to him.

He sat up straighter. He stretched his long, Hessian-booted legs out in front of him and he flicked a speck of dust from his black tailcoat, then he turned his attention to Colonel Fitzwilliam.

The two gentlemen were sitting in Mr Darcy’s drawing-room at Darcy House. It was a large room with tasteful furnishings and an elegant fireplace. The gentlemen were sitting facing each other on opposite sofas, their drinks next to them on convenient side tables. The evening sunshine was lighting the room and painting bright stripes across the luxurious carpet.

‘You were saying?’ he asked, trying to bring his thoughts back under control.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at him intently.

‘You are very distracted these days. Is anything wrong?’ he asked.

‘No. Nothing is wrong. What could be wrong?’ asked Mr Darcy, with a haughty raise of one eyebrow. ‘Pray continue.’

Colonel Fitzwilliam continued looking at him intently for another few seconds then gave a slight shrug. He took another sip of his drink, returned his glass to the table, and then carried on.

‘I was saying that if we are to stop Napoleon once and for all we must do it this year. It was a mistake to imprison him on the island of Elba when we forced him to abdicate last year. Elba was too near the mainland and the short distance across the sea tempted him to escape and raise another army.’

Mr Darcy forced himself to think about what his cousin was saying, because it was of great importance to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and he liked his cousin. Indeed, it was not only important to his cousin, it was important to the whole country. Napoleon had escaped from Elba in February and gathered followers on his way through France. He had marched on Paris with an army at his back and the news of his approach had driven the French king out of the city.

‘Just when we thought the Napoleonic wars were over, Napoleon has started them all over again,’ he said, to show he was listening.

‘Yes.’ Colonel Fitzwilliam sat forward in his seat. He was wearing his uniform and although he was not a handsome man, he looked imposing in his regimentals. ‘We should have attacked him at once but we left him time to gather his forces and make his plans. When he emerges from Paris, as he will, we must win a decisive victory against him, otherwise we will face more years of war.’

‘And you think it will be fought near Brussels?’ asked Mr Darcy.

He had followed the events in the newspapers and he had talked to his cousin, as well as other military friends and acquaintances, about the matter.

‘Our plan is to use Brussels as a base for gathering the European armies and then we can march on Paris together as a unified force,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘It took the might of combined armies to stop him last year and it will do so again. The Austrians, Prussians and Russians are all with us on this. Brussels will be full this year.’

Mr Darcy took a drink, turning the glass in his hand.

‘Will it work?’ he asked. ‘Do you think you will be able to defeat him? He is a gifted general.’

‘Yes, we can defeat him – as long as all the different European princes and their armies stop squabbling with each other long enough to do the job. Every prince wants to command the army, and a lot of them don’t have any military training. But I think they will see sense in the end.’

‘Let us hope so,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘No one wants to see Europe plunged into another war.’

He envied his cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam would soon be leaving England and Mr Darcy had a sudden urge to join him. Since Elizabeth Bennet’s refusal, he had nothing to remain in England for.

He was thoughtful for a few minutes, then he said, ‘When are you going to Brussels?’

‘I sail in four days’ time. Why?’

‘I think I might come with you.’

‘Does this have anything to do with Miss Elizabeth Bennet?’ Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, giving him a hard stare.

Mr Darcy gave him a discouraging look, returning his stare with interest.

He had told Colonel Fitzwilliam something of the matter, because he had written in his letter to Elizabeth that she could ask Colonel Fitzwilliam for confirmation of the Wickham affair. But he had not told his cousin that he had proposed to the lady, and he did not intend to. Nor did he intend to admit that she was the cause of his desire to leave England. He did not want anyone to think that the daughter of a country squire – a country squire, for goodness sake! – had any influence over him.

‘No. Of course not. How could it possibly have anything to do with the lady?’ he asked in a repressive tone of voice. ‘I have not seen her since we left Rosings and I doubt if I will ever see her again. Why should you think it had anything to do with her?’

‘Because it is not like you to suddenly decide to leave England,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam bluntly. ‘There is something behind it, I am sure.’

Mr Darcy lifted his glass and put it to his lips. The amber liquid swirled inside the crystal as it travelled to his mouth. Then he returned the glass to the table.

‘If I do not travel now, who knows when the chance will come again? If Europe is once more plunged into war then it will be impossible. Besides, I need a change and the Continent is pleasant at this time of year. I thought I might take Georgiana with me,’ he added on a sudden impulse. ‘It will do her good to see something of Europe and it will give her a chance to practise her French, as well as her Italian and Russian.  She is of an age to enjoy it and she will learn a great deal that she cannot learn from books. She will have new museums and galleries to visit. She is fast turning into an accomplished young lady and it will put the seal on her accomplishments.’

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked thoughtful.

‘There is something in what you say. Georgiana is not a little girl any more. She is turning into a young lady. Yes, I think it will do her good to travel.’

‘It will be safe, will it not?’ asked Mr Darcy.

Although he liked the idea of taking his sister to Brussels, he did not want to do so if there would be any danger.

‘Oh, yes. Most of our best families are going. As you know, my mother is taking my sisters. She says there will be more balls and parties in Brussels than in London this year. I am sure she will like to have Georgiana with her when you have business to attend to. My sisters and Georgiana will all benefit from each other’s company.’

‘Then it is settled,’ said Mr Darcy.

Colonel Fitzwilliam finished his drink and then bid Mr Darcy farewell.

Mr Darcy began to make his arrangements . . . and he tried to banish the image of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, which was never far from his mind.

Breakfast at Longbourn was a miserable affair the following morning. Lydia had departed at 6am, waving and laughing and promising to find husbands for all her sisters. Mrs Bennet had wept and hugged Lydia and told her to enjoy herself, and had then waved her handkerchief at the departing carriage. She had finally retired indoors with a sob and a great many loud lamentations, and she now sat at the breakfast table, pouring the tea and sighing loudly whenever anyone looked in her direction.

Kitty was cross, saying that Lydia should not have been allowed to go to Brussels. Or, at least, that Lydia should only have been allowed to go if she had taken Kitty with her.

Mary had cast her own particular brand of gloom over the table by saying that, the last time Napoleon had run amok in Europe, it had led to death and destruction, and that Lydia was certain to be killed before the summer was over.

At this, Mrs Bennet let out a loud wail and said that Mr Bennet was a heartless beast, and that poor, dear Lydia would probably be lying dead in a ditch at that very moment, without her mother to watch over her.

In vain did Elizabeth point out that Lydia had only just departed and that she would not even have left Meryton, let alone England, by this time.

Jane, too, tried to soother her mother, but it was no good. Mrs Bennet was determined to hide her face in her handkerchief and she let out a loud wail whenever Lydia’s name was mentioned.

Elizabeth could not blame her father for deciding to take breakfast in his library.

After ten minutes of this, the maid brought the mail in on a silver salver. She bobbed a curtsey and handed it to Mrs Bennet.

‘Ah! The mail,’ said Mrs Bennet, with a sorrowful shake of her head. ‘I wonder if there will be a letter from my poor, dear Lydia.’

Elizabeth did not bother to point out that such a thing was impossible, but left her mother to indulge herself in a fit of despondency.

Mrs Bennet picked up the letters and began to look through them.

‘A letter for Mr Bennet . . .  a letter for Mr Bennet . . .  a letter for Mr Bennet . . .’ she said. ‘Though why Mr Bennet deserves so many letters I cannot imagine.’

‘They are letters of business, Mamma,’ said Elizabeth patiently.

‘I am sure he is welcome to them, if he can put business ahead of the safety of his little girl.’ She looked at the next letter more closely and said, ‘This one is for you, Lizzy, though why my sister-in-law writes to you and not me I cannot say.’ She handed the letter to Elizabeth. ‘Ah!’ Her face brightened. ‘She has written to me as well. I will read it when I am sufficiently recovered.’

Elizabeth had finished her breakfast and so she took her letter gratefully from her mother’s wilting hand. She retired to the window seat where she sat down to read it. She always liked receiving a letter from her Aunt Gardiner and this morning it was particularly welcome. She no longer hoped for any advice about Lydia, since Lydia had gone beyond recall, but she hoped for some sensible sympathy, as well as some more details of their forthcoming trip to the Lake District.

Elizabeth was very much looking forward to the trip. Now that Mrs Bennet had a grievance, Longbourn was not conducive to happiness, and a tour of the beautiful northern lakes and mountains was just to Elizabeth’s taste.

There were the usual greetings and then the letter said:

You are right to be concerned about your sister. It would be the height of folly to allow her to go to Brussels without a suitable chaperon. As chance would have it, one of my old school friends has taken a house in Brussels as her husband was ordered there last month – he is an important official and he will be spending the spring and summer there, arranging supplies for the army. She invited your uncle and me to join her as she has taken a very large house. It is much larger than she wanted, but houses in Brussels are in short supply and so she was glad to find it. I turned down her invitation as your uncle could not leave his business for such a long time but when I received your letter I wrote to her and asked if I could change my mind. The result is that she has invited us all to go.

I am sure it will do Jane good to have a change of scene and you will not dislike it, I think. Your mamma and your other sisters are invited, too. We can, between us, keep Lydia out of mischief, I am sure. Your uncle cannot take the summer off work but he will join us for the first few weeks. I have written to your mother as well, although I have not written to her quite as freely as I have written to you —

Here Elizabeth was interrupted by her mother exclaiming, ‘Oh! My dear, good sister-in-law. It was a happy day when my brother married her. She is going to stay with a friend in Brussels and she has invited us all to go with her. What fun we shall have. We are to go as soon as the arrangements can be made and we are to stay for the summer. We will be able to see our good, dear Lydia and enjoy ourselves into the bargain. What times we will have! Mr Bennet!’ she called as she jumped up from the table and ran out of the room, waving the letter in the air. ‘Mr Bennet! What do you think? We are all going to Brussels!’

Mr Bennet, when he heard the news, was not as excited as his wife. Indeed, he did not agree that they were all going to Brussels as he refused to go.

‘There will be quite enough excitement here for me in my library. And I think you had better not go either,’ he added to his wife.

Elizabeth and her sisters heard the exchange through the open library door, for their mother had neglected to close it behind her.

‘Not go! Why, Mr Bennet what do you mean, not go? Of course we must go.’

‘It will be too dangerous. And besides, I need someone here to look after me.’

Elizabeth knew at once that her father was teasing. He liked to tease their mother and Mrs Bennet, despite the fact she had been married to Mr Bennet for three and twenty years, still did not know when she was being teased.

Mrs Bennet’s voice dropped.

‘In that case, I suppose I must stay behind, unless Mary —’

‘No, no,’ her father protested, quickly realising his mistake. ‘That will not be necessary. You have been invited and it would be rude not to go.’

‘That is exactly what I think! How well you express it, Mr Bennet. It would be rude not to go. I will tell Hill to start packing our trunks at once. Hill must come with us, for I cannot do without her.’

Kitty was in nearly as many raptures as her mother. She pronounced her new bonnet ugly and pulled the flowers off, saying she was sure it would not be in fashion in Brussels, then complained about all her gowns as Hill neatly folded them and placed them in the trunk.

Elizabeth and Jane took over all the household preparations their mother was too excited to make. Elizabeth wrote to Charlotte Collins, telling her they would be on the Continent for the next few months, and Jane went into Meryton to tell their Aunt Phillips. Their Uncle Phillips very kindly offered to make all the travelling arrangements, as he had a friend who had travelled to the Continent before and so he knew what must be done.

Once back at Longbourn, Jane gave Hill and the other servants some sensible instructions and then she and Elizabeth helped with the packing.

It took some time for all the arrangements to be made, but in a few days - far sooner than they had thought possible - they set out for Ramsgate where they were to take the ship to the Continent.