His Uncle's Favorite (25 page)

“No, not really… I mean, we did speak a few times but nothing more than brief pleasantries… We have few interests in common. Why do you ask?”

“I am afraid Mr. Bennet does not know you well enough. Uncle said you might be helpful and advise Mr. Bennet in his estate management, but Mr. Bennet declared he never would dare bother you, and he seemed incredulous that you would be willing to help him. I felt so unhappy that he said that, and I think Elizabeth felt the same way.”

To her surprise, Miss Darcy noticed a trace of redness on her brother’s face.

“You must not feel bad, dearest. I am sure Mr. Bennet has a low opinion of me and rightfully so. My behaviour towards him was not without fault. In fact, I am ashamed to admit that my behaviour in Hertfordshire was not without fault.”

He returned his attention to his plate, and Georgiana was silent for a time.“But, Brother, will you?”

“Will I what, dearest? “

“Will you help Mr. Bennet?”

He looked closely at his preoccupied sister, and for the first time in many days, he offered her a large, open smile that brightened his face.

“Mr. Bennet might not know me very well, as you said. But you do…”

“I most certainly do, Brother. Uncle invited Mr. Bennet to his house tomorrow at eleven o’clock. Perhaps you could join them for coffee…if you have no fixed plans, I mean…”

“I have no other plans. And I must say you have become very wise lately, dearest. Yes, coffee would be just fine, indeed…”

Chapter 11

Elizabeth’s anxiety became insupportable. Her father had left Gracechurch Street immediately after breakfast and had not yet returned, though it was quite late in the afternoon.

Earlier, Lady Selina and Georgiana Darcy called briefly on their way to the modiste, asking Elizabeth and Jane to keep them company and perhaps order new gowns.

To Mrs. Gardiner’s surprise, Jane accepted the invitation while Elizabeth politely refused. Elizabeth recognised her aunt’s puzzled expression, but she chose to feign ignorance. She was not disposed to have a conversation with Mrs. Gardiner.

Where could her father be? Was the present financial state of Longbourn so seriously damaged? Or perhaps he had finished his business long ago, and Lord Matlock had invited him to his club? Did her father still need Mr. Darcy’s advice? Did the earl inform Mr. Darcy that her father might need help?

She had come to know him—such a painful process of discovering his worthiness!—well enough to know that he would not refuse to offer help to her father. But in what way would this new situation influence his opinion of her family? She could not imagine how she would bear to see him again—or whether she would ever see him again. After all, even if he were to help her father, that was no reason to see her.

She was still deeply upset by his cruel words regarding her family and his lack of consideration in hurting her feelings! His improper way of professing affection and his indelicate proposal deserved no less than a rejection—but not such a rejection!

She wondered whether Georgiana had related to him any of their conversation. He was thoughtful enough to avoid putting her in a stressful position by appearing at her door unexpectedly, but she was daring enough to send word that she was not opposed to seeing him again—that is, if Georgiana thought to pass it on.

Elizabeth knew she could expect nothing but polite, cold behaviour when—and if—they should meet again. She hoped at least for the opportunity to thank him for the trouble of writing the letter, to apologise for the cruel accusations she bestowed upon him, and to assure him she would keep the secret he chose to share with her. She wanted him to know he could trust her.

She had little patience for staying in her room, so she returned downstairs and moved to the small library, searching for a favourite book.

It was not long before her solitude was broken by Mr. Bennet’s appearance. He was alone, so Elizabeth allowed him only an instant before she started questioning him.

“Have a little patience and a little pity for your old father, child. How do expect me to answer all these questions?”

“Forgive me, Papa; but I was worried about you. You left early this morning and… Did you finish your business? How are you feeling? Are you tired? Do you want a glass of wine?”

“I am very well indeed. I have great hopes that things will settle quite satisfactorily—and no, no wine for now. I had the pleasure of enjoying the earl’s brandy for some time, and I dare say it was enough for the time being…at least until after dinner.”

“A very wise decision, Papa.” She sat near her father, searching for a way to continue.

“What about you, Lizzy? Why are you home? I understood Miss Darcy and Lady Selina had plans involving dresses and lace. Surely, you could not resist such temptation.”

She laughed. “I did resist, Papa—quite shocking, I admit.”

“Well, well—so fortunate your mother is not here. Your behaviour would truly vex her! She is still upset with you, you know!”

“I imagine… I am afraid she will never forgive me.” Elizabeth smiled.

“No, indeed. Unless you marry someone much better than Mr. Collins—a task that should not be difficult to accomplish—someone with at least 5000 a year: a viscount or a handsome colonel, perhaps.”

“Oh, you met the earl’s sons.” She laughed.

“I have indeed. Had I not known better, I would say Lord Matlock has decided to marry you into his family. Your mother would worship the earl if she heard him speaking. Perhaps I should write her—”

“Papa, please do not mock me with this! You must promise you will tell Mama nothing about the earl’s jokes. I dare not imagine her agitation at such news!”

“Oh, you are too serious, Lizzy! You should allow me enough credit to know your mother’s nerves intimately, and I never mock them. But I have to say, I felt quite proud to discover the earl’s favourable opinion of you, my child.”

“Lord Matlock is too kind. You know me well enough to realise he is exaggerating.”

“He is exaggerating a little, I admit; yet it does not make me less proud of you. I am quite pleased to see that such illustrious people as Lord Matlock, Lady Selina and Miss Darcy are fond of you, Lizzy. Not to mention Mr. Darcy himself, who, I dare say, seems to have improved his opinion since that evening he refused to dance with you.”

Mr. Bennet smiled tenderly at his daughter while a mischievous smile appeared on his face.

A cold shiver struck Elizabeth; she stared at her father, her mind unable to accept the meaning of his words. “What do you mean, Papa? Have you spoken with Mr. Darcy?”

“I most certainly have! Oh, I forgot to tell you—the strangest coincidence occurred: precisely a few minutes after I arrived at the earl’s house, Mr. Darcy called! To be sure, I believed he would excuse himself and leave, but instead he declared himself pleased to see me and inquired about my arrival in town. Mr. Darcy himself, can you believe that?”

“Strange coincidence, indeed…” she whispered.

“But a fortunate one—very, very fortunate. You will not believe, Lizzy, how knowledgeable Mr. Darcy is in everything that involves estate business. I was overwhelmed; I must say I did not give much importance to Lord Matlock’s suggestion yesterday—about asking for Mr. Darcy’s support. But that young man is quite impressive, you know. He said he was confident things can improve at Longbourn in the future, and he was exceedingly amiable—unexpectedly amiable. Well, not quite like Mr. Bingley, but I have to confess, Mr Bingley can be quite annoying at times with his perpetually smiling expression. By the way, Lizzy, can you remind me why we disliked Mr. Darcy so much—in the past, I mean—because I have come to like him quite a lot in the last hours. I have to say I felt quite ashamed of myself for my poor opinion of him, not to mention that I had already expressed my scepticism to Lord Matlock yesterday. I hope he will not betray me to Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth stared at her father—who had obviously enjoyed Lord Matlock’s brandy a bit too much—and struggled to understand his words. There was no doubt that her father had spent no little time with Mr. Darcy, and despite his present euphoric state, Mr. Bennet’s favourable report about the meeting could not be doubted.

Was it a coincidence that Mr. Darcy visited his uncle precisely when her father was there? Or not? Did she dare imagine too much?

“I would truly appreciate it if you could help me to my room now; I need to rest a little. I am not accustomed to leaving the house during the winter and—”

“And you are not accustomed to such fine, strong brandy, either.” Elizabeth laughed, holding her father’s arm.

“That, too,” Mr. Bennet admitted. “Oh, I forgot to mention—Mr. Darcy might stop by later with some papers. He kindly offered to bring them to me himself. You know—another strange thing—he was somehow under the impression that you would be bothered by his appearance. How amusing! I know you are not too fond of the man, but why would you be bothered by his visit? Anyway, I assured him you would be more than pleased with his visit, so be so kind as to inform me when he arrives—and try to be a charming companion in the mean time. I know he once called you only tolerable, but it is excusable for someone who spends time burdened with business affairs to have poor taste in ladies’ beauty. And do not be upset that he refused to dance with you. Believe me, dearest, if I were he, I would not dance with anyone at a country ball. Upon my word, I am not he, and I never liked to dance at country balls, not even when I was young!”

***

Elizabeth closed the door to her father’s chamber and leaned against the wall. He would stop by to bring her father some papers. What papers? Could he not send a courier? Of course, he could. Will he come in person? Surely, he knows that she will be at home. Was he willing to talk to her? If not, why come? What would he tell her? What should she tell him? She must thank him for taking the trouble to write the letter, and she must apologise for everything she said to him, but he should apologise, too. Was he aware that his behaviour was wrong? He must be, or else he would not bother to explain himself in such a long letter…and he would not be so kind to her father…and he would not come to visit her… Would he truly come?

An hour passed in turmoil and unanswered questions. Her aunt was taking care of the children, and Jane had not yet returned; she likely was having an enjoyable time with Georgiana, Lady Selina and Mr. Bingley. Dearest Jane—she deserved as much enjoyment as possible after the pain she bore for so long.

Elizabeth took up her needlework, but she was unable to attend to it; she then took a book and began to read without comprehending a single word.

When she heard the doorbell, her heart beat wildly as she sensed the visitor’s name long before the servant announced him and invited him in.

“Miss Bennet.” He bowed with perfect politeness, his uneasiness obvious.

“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered, wondering whether he heard her.

“Please forgive my intrusion. I did not mean to interrupt you—”

“No intrusion, not at all. My father mentioned you might visit us.”

“Mr. Bennet is at home?”

“Yes, he is. He is resting, but I will inform him you have arrived.”

“He is well, I hope?”

“Yes, very well…just a little tired…”

“Then perhaps you should allow him to rest a little longer?”

She stopped in the middle of the room, puzzled, her cheeks burning again.

“And you? Are you well, Miss Bennet?”

“I…yes, thank you.”

He was still standing, looking around uncomfortably. She suddenly remembered her duty.

“Please do sit down, sir. I mean…that is, if you are not in a hurry.”

“No… Yes, thank you. I am in no hurry… Are you certain I am not disturbing you?”

“Very certain.”

A moment of silence followed. They looked around, and their gazes met for a moment, then both averted their eyes.

“They are very important, I imagine…” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The documents you brought for my father… They must be very important, or else you could have sent them.”

“Would you have preferred I sent them rather than coming myself? Would that have been more comfortable for you?” Her face was warm, but she held his gaze a moment longer.

“No…not at all.”

He paused a moment, and their eyes met again.

“The papers are not so important… I could have sent a courier, but I wished to come myself.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt the blood drain from her face. What did he mean?

“Thank you…” she whispered. “Thank you for helping my father; he told me that—”

“Miss Bennet!” he interrupted her abruptly. “I have been dishonest. I used these papers as an excuse to come here today without appearing ridiculous. But my real reason was the hope of finding a few moments to apologise, though no excuses would—”

“Mr. Darcy, it is I who should apologise… Everything I said… You must allow me to thank you for your trust…and for explaining to me… Your letter…”

“I cannot allow you to apologise because I cannot allow you to carry the blame. If not for my outrageous behaviour and my offensive attempt at…proposing, nothing would have happened… I should not have—”