Miss Darcy's Companion: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (8 page)

So perhaps her sister had not set out to use Bingley ill. Nevertheless, with such low connections she was not the way for his friend to distance himself from his own origins in trade. And if the mother was indeed a low, vulgar sort… Miss Bingley’s views might not be fully trusted, but it had not escaped Darcy’s notice that, in her account of her relations, Miss Bennet had not a good word to say of her mother.

The young lady’s low voice broke through his disquieting ruminations.

“I cannot help fretting for my sister,” she resumed, her manner altered. Gone was the easy playfulness, to be replaced by a cautious, tentative air.

“Why is that?” Darcy prompted, feeling conspicuous and gauche in the extreme. It had never been his way to involve himself into other people’s intimate concerns, not least because he would not have welcomed anyone’s intrusion either.

Miss Bennet’s manner was still cautious when she answered.

“A trusting nature might have its own rewards, but is not devoid of dangers. That of finding one’s trust abused, for instance.”

“And do you fear this for your sister?”

“There is always that risk. Especially in matters of the heart. My father used to tease us that it lends distinction to a young woman, amongst her friends, to be crossed in love now and again, but I hope this questionable honour is not bestowed upon my sister. Some would recover easily from the experience. I fear she would not.”

Darcy cleared his voice and reluctantly pressed on.

“Have you reason to believe that your sister has formed a risky attachment?”

The direct question gave her pause.

“I believe I have spoken out of turn. Jane has not given me the liberty to discuss such matters. My sole excuse is my concern for her. Neither of us have ever had more than personal attributes to recommend us, and now it is even plainer to see that she has nothing to offer but devotion. And sadly in most cases this is not enough,” she added, her voice so low and strained that he could barely hear her.

Darcy knew not what reply to make to that.

Even if he wished to, it was not his place to reassure her that if devotion was enough for any man, that man would certainly be Bingley. Names had not been mentioned and, by every standard of civil conversation, they should not be, although by now Darcy reasonably assumed her well informed of the goings-on in Hertfordshire. She might have imagined that, just as her sister shared her thoughts with her, Bingley might have written to him about his intentions, or lack thereof. And, while he sought to learn more about the lady, she was doing the same as regards the gentleman – sound him out, or at least warn him indirectly against trifling with her sister’s affections.

Darcy drained his cup of coffee, heartily wishing for no part in the entire sorry business and regretting that he had already sent the letter asking Bingley to come to Pemberley. What was he to say to him when he arrived? Doubtlessly the match was not in his friend’s best interest. But who would relish such a damnably uncomfortable conversation, or having another’s misery on one’s conscience?

He held his peace, as another equally unwelcome thought occurred to him. If Bingley were indeed to marry in that quarter, how would it sit on him, Georgiana and indeed Miss Bennet, to have the new Mrs Bingley as a rightful guest in the house where her sister was a paid companion? Or, heaven forfend, their unsavoury relations? For everybody’s comfort, Miss Bennet might have to be released from her employment. Her sister might ask her to relinquish it anyway and live with her, if they were so close. Georgiana would not like it much. As for himself, he was not looking forward to recommencing the search for a lady’s companion either. And all this trouble and conundrums just because Bingley’s attorney had chanced to recommend him an estate in Hertfordshire!

Their daily get-together for refreshment, in the house or elsewhere, had always been a pleasure, but not so today. Georgiana was still ill at ease when Darcy excused himself and left the parlour in reasonably high dudgeon with his reckless friend and Bingley’s attorney, and as for Miss Bennet, she was very sombre and subdued.

He could only hope that everyone’s disposition would improve before too long. That it was not so he learned an hour later, when he strode into the library in search of a map detailing the boundaries of some tenant farms and found Miss Bennet standing by a bookcase, a leather-bound volume in her hands. She turned with a start at his sudden entrance and, yet again, Darcy was shocked into mortified compassion to see that she had been crying. His first impulse was to excuse himself and leave her but, vainly searching for a handkerchief, the young lady voiced a swift apology and protest.

“Forgive me, Mr Darcy. I did not seek to ban you from your own library,” she tremulously laughed in an endeavour to make light of her own discomfort as she dabbed at her cheeks with her fingertips, unable to find her handkerchief.

Entirely at a loss as to what he was to say on the occasion, he slowly closed the small distance between them and silently offered her his own. With a word of thanks, she took it and dried her tears, then gave another conscious laugh.

“I thank you. I should not wish to bespatter your book. It deserves better,” she said and closed it, then returned it to its place with one last stroke along the well-worn spine.

Darcy’s eyes followed the movement and rested on the faded gilt lettering.
Gulliver’s Travels
, it said, surprisingly. Not the sort of book to extract tears.

“May I ask why it distressed you so?” he asked softly.

“It did not. In fact, it was a comfort. I found it here a fair while ago and… I peruse it often. It was my father’s favourite. He used to read it to us, me and Jane, when we were little. I often thought it would have pleased him greatly to live in the land of horses, far from noisy humans and their quest for empty glitter.” She dropped a hurried curtsy. “If you would excuse me,” she whispered and was gone before he could find the right words of comfort.

It quite escaped his notice that she forgot to return the handkerchief. In truth, he did not spare another thought to the square of fine lawn bearing his initials. And even if he did, he could not possibly have known that henceforth, in the dark hours of the night, it would often be brought out of a lacquered box and examined with a heavy heart, or held against a youthful but very solemn cheek, in the privacy of a small bedchamber.

CHAPTER 8

The fate of his handkerchief might have eluded him, but it was not long until Darcy began to see an alteration in Miss Bennet’s manner – subtle changes he had not noticed before. It was not that she avoided him, as such. They mostly met at breakfast and at dinner anyway, which could not be avoided, and occasionally the three of them would share a morning walk, a carriage ride or a mid-day cup of tea. But the easy flow of conversation over dinner had given way to oddly strained exchanges, the long debates over books were fast becoming a thing of the past and the habit of indulging in several games of chess in the evening was all but broken. And on the whole, when daily routine brought them together or they chanced to cross paths in the house, he could not help noting the return of that careful reserve she had displayed in Lady Stretton’s employ, and he was sorry for it.

He could not tell what might have caused the alteration. Perhaps her sister had informed her of Miss Bingley’s vile insinuations and she sought to avoid all such suspicion by keeping her distance. The notion made him curse under his breath. One day he would have to impress upon Bingley that his vexing sister ought to be kept in check. She would never be the mistress of this household, and the sooner she came to grasp that fact, the better. Miss Bingley should not be allowed to instil her poison from a distance, to ruin Miss Bennet’s comfort and likewise his own.

It vexed him greatly that she might have been to blame for depriving him of the enjoyment of a rewarding conversation or a challenging game of chess, and equally so for making his sister’s companion tread on eggshells in a house where she had previously felt nearly as carefree as in her former home.

Thankfully, at least Georgiana was seemingly unaffected by the entire business. Whenever he could hear the young ladies chatting in some adjoining chamber, he was pleased to note that their interactions still carried the same playful cheerfulness he had been so glad to witness in the early days of his return to Pemberley. It was only in his presence that the reserve returned, and Darcy strongly felt that something should be done about it.

Yet he could not determine what, precisely. A frank discussion about Miss Bingley’s vitriolic letter was out of the question. It would have been deeply mortifying to both, and probably unseemly. Besides, Miss Bennet might still be in ignorance of it and her cautious reserve due to an altogether different reason, so bringing up Miss Bingley’s vile remarks would only worsen matters.

The only solution he could see was to act as though nothing had happened. Still seek to engage her in conversation at dinner and afterwards in the drawing room. Continue to suggest a game of chess, without taking umbrage at her frequent refusal. Propose regular walks and outings to Lambton and the environs. Show himself in sympathy with her position as a vulnerable young woman cast all too soon upon an uncaring and sometimes openly malicious world. And generally make her feel she was a valued addition to his household, and that he knew his duty to her, as well as to all the others entrusted to his care. And then contentment might be restored again.

* * * *

“So are you ready to go? I believe I can hear the carriage,” Darcy observed, and his two companions eagerly assented.

He had planned another outing for the day, a drive to Lambton to sample the delights of the prosperous market town, and especially those of Messrs Howe and Crompton’s, a small but well-stocked booksellers’.

Two footmen attended the young ladies with their pelisses and bonnets while the third fetched Darcy’s hat, gloves and greatcoat, but when the butler opened the large oak doors, it was not to inform them that their carriage was ready and waiting, but to announce two unexpected visitors.

“Mr and Mrs Bingley to see you, Sir,” the man offered with a rather rigid bow – poor old Burton was getting on in years.

But this time his butler’s age and stiffening back could not hold Darcy’s attention for a moment. His shocked glance shot past him to find Bingley, looking vaguely contrite but grinning from ear to ear nonetheless, and alongside him a very beautiful young woman, whose other notable feature was the deepest blush.

Darcy had no opportunity to examine her for longer. Miss Bennet gasped at the announcement, her hand flying to her chest, and no sooner had the visitors crossed the threshold than she ran to clasp her sister in a fierce embrace.

“Oh, Lizzy!” Darcy heard Mrs Bingley earnestly exclaim. “Will you ever forgive me for marrying without you as my bridesmaid – without you there, even? But Charles – Mr Bingley – so insisted. And Mamma as well, and– ”

The rest was lost in a flurry of endearments and an exchange of hurried kisses, and besides Bingley’s voice would have drowned everything out anyway.

“Well, Darcy, I fervently hope you do not mind my availing myself of your kind invitation in rather different circumstances than you expected. Pray allow me to introduce my wife. Jane, this is my best friend Darcy, who has rescued me from more scrapes than I could count, and Miss Darcy, his sister.”

His hand clasped his wife’s and she stepped forward to exchange curtsies and bows with their hosts, then Bingley beamed at Elizabeth.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last, Miss Bennet. Jane told me much about you, and I hope that now I might also claim your good wishes and sisterly affection.”

She replied in kind, then turned to the Darcys.

“I must beg your pardon for waylaying your guests before they could even greet you properly,” she smiled, but the apology was in earnest.

With a flourish of her hand, Georgiana indicated that none was needed and Darcy spoke up, finding his voice at last:

“Not at all. Bingley, Mrs Bingley, you are most welcome. Pray come in.”

“But I see you were just preparing to go out,” his friend observed.

“No matter. It was but a short trip to Lambton that can easily be left for another day. Do join us in the drawing room.”

“Unless you and Lizzy would prefer to take a stroll through the gardens, Mrs Bingley, while you are still dressed for the outdoors?” Georgiana suggested. “The chrysanthemums are a sight to see, as is the foliage of the maples and the acacias.”

None of those present doubted that her enthusiasm for autumn colours was anything but a pretext for allowing the sisters the opportunity for private conversation. Affectionate glances were cast her way from every quarter, but Mrs Bingley was the first to put her appreciation into words.

“That is very thoughtful, Miss Darcy. I should like that very much indeed.”

With a curtsy to the others, the sisters made their way towards the garden arm in arm and, once divested of his greatcoat, Darcy smiled warmly to his sister.

“In the same spirit, dearest, would you allow me the wicked pleasure of grilling Bingley in my study for a while?”

“I expected nothing less,” she smiled back. “You can find me in the music room when you are quite finished – that is, Mr Bingley, if my brother allows you to escape before dinnertime,” she added and skipped gaily off, leaving the others to make their way into the study.

“I imagine you are shocked,” Bingley began without preamble as soon as the door was closed behind them.

“Why should I be?” his friend drawled. “If I had a shilling for every time a friend showed up married on my doorstep– ”

“Then you would have a shilling,” Bingley laughed and threw himself into a chair. “Darcy, she is an angel. The sweetest and most beautiful angel I have ever beheld!”

“I suppose this is the wrong time for me to mention that you said the same, word for word, of Miss Clarissa Hargrave, Miss Lewis, the second Miss Harcourt and half a dozen other Misses whose names elude me at the moment.”

“There is no right time to bring that up. In fact, I beg you would not share the full history of my philandering with my wife, Darcy. ‘Tis all in the past – gone – forgotten. No one compares to her. But you will soon see that for yourself.”

Darcy approached with the two glasses he had filled, offered one and raised the other.

“To your felicity in marriage, my friend. May it be as long-lasting as your engagement was brief,” he smiled, not unkindly.

Bingley was all too pleased to drink to that, then set his glass down on the nearest table.

“I thank you. I am assured of it.”

For his part, Darcy suppressed the urge to shake his head in exasperation. What was done was done, and it was his friend’s life after all, not his. There was nothing to be gained from voicing reservations now, it was too late. All he could do was support Bingley in his choice. And, truth be told, a part of him was rather glad to have been spared a most uncomfortable conversation.

“Would you care to explain the haste?” he casually asked, and Bingley huffed.

“Caroline, of course. She would not cease objecting to everything to do with Jane. In the end I could not listen to another word. Once I gathered the courage to propose and the dearest girl had the kindness to accept me, I rode to town for a special licence. Thank goodness for small mercies, they were out of mourning so once I procured it we could be married in Longbourn Church within a se’nnight. I wished to put an end to Caroline’s ridiculous crusade before she had a chance to enlist the help of others and poison my uncles and aunts in Scarborough against my betrothed as she had succeeded in poisoning Louisa. We set off to see my relations in the north the day after the wedding. This is one of the reasons we are here. The other, of course, is to share my happiness with you.”

Darcy clapped him affectionately on the shoulder, and Bingley resumed.

“It was not an easy task to carry my point as regards speedy nuptials, but thankfully my mother-in-law was quick to see that a bird in hand was worth two in the bush, so she was of great assistance.”

Darcy grimaced, wondering if those had been the lady’s very own words.

“What is she like?” he could not stop himself from asking.

“You would think she talks too much and rather too loudly,” Bingley replied with an easy smile, unwittingly confirming Darcy’s worst expectations, before he continued in a very Bingleyesque manner, “but I find I cannot censure her, after everything she has been through.”

A detailed account of the Bennets and their misfortunes followed, and Darcy held his peace, although he was familiar with it already from Miss Bennet and, worse still, from Miss Bingley’s letter. But he was unwilling to pain his friend with any disclosures regarding the said missive, so he let him speak at leisure without interruption. He slowly made his way to one of the windows as he listened, his gaze idly drifting over the formal gardens until some movement caught his eye, beyond the topiary: Miss Bennet and her sister strolling along, chatting with great animation and stopping every now and then to gesture for added emphasis or share a warm embrace.

“They are very close,” Bingley suddenly spoke at his shoulder, having joined him without notice. “Jane holds her sister in the deepest affection. I believe that, to some extent, her eagerness to see Miss Elizabeth worked to my advantage. Jane was most reluctant to marry without her dearest sister at her side, but was quick to see that in doing so she might see her sooner. It would have taken several weeks at least to make arrangements for Miss Elizabeth’s arrival into Hertfordshire, whereas we could be at Pemberley within days of our marriage. Unless of course we descended upon you
in corpore
and asked your vicar to marry us in Kympton Church,” he affectionately teased, then clapped his friend’s shoulder. “Fear not, Darcy, I have too great an affection for you, so I have not considered this alternative for longer than a moment,” he quipped, then sobered. “I must thank you for a great many things. Your longstanding friendship for one, and your support as well. I hope I still have it. And also for appeasing Jane’s concerns as regards her sister. She was dreadfully distressed by the thought of Miss Elizabeth making her own way into the world and she suspected that she was not happy in Lady Stretton’s household. It was a great relief for her to receive bright accounts from Pemberley. You and Miss Darcy have made Miss Bennet very happy, and I thank you for it. Which makes my next rather too difficult to say, but I would like to offer Miss Elizabeth a home with us eventually. She might wish to revert to her former way of life rather than continue as a paid companion, and I know Jane would be thrilled to have her in our home. I know that, of all my acquaintances, you are the most likely to treat her with respect and kindness, but I would not wish for any of my kin to work for a living unless they would be unhappy otherwise. But we can speak of this later. We are to spend a month or so touring the north and visiting my relations. We will make our way towards Netherfield some time after Christmas. Hopefully by then Miss Elizabeth might decide if she would like to travel south with us. If she does, then perhaps you and Miss Georgiana would consider seeking another lady’s companion. Until you find a suitable replacement, you are most welcome to come and stay with us at Netherfield, so that your sister is not so abruptly deprived of Miss Elizabeth’s society. I know that Jane would be very glad of the opportunity to become better acquainted with your sister and, with any luck, between yourselves, you and Miss Bennet might help keep Caroline at bay,” he laughed.

“Is she to live with you still?” Darcy asked in some surprise. He would not have expected such forbearance, not even from his too tolerant friend. To his mild satisfaction, the benign features hardened.