Mr. Darcy's Forbidden Love-kindle (31 page)

She smiled brightly. “Oh, George! How good it is to have you back.”

~~~*~~~

On the carriage ride back to his hotel, Wickham pondered the only weak spot in his plan—Gisela!  It had played on his mind since he had met with Darcy’s wife after his sojourn to Rosings. Her conduct had grown even more bizarre, and he assumed her heavy drinking was the likely reason.

Finding her completely indifferent to Lady Catherine’s order to kill the solicitor, he was stunned when she suggested he use a long-time servant of hers to do the job—a tall lanky fellow with bad teeth she referred to as Grimsby. She had alluded that this man was very loyal to her and would think nothing of killing Lowell at her command. In addition, she had shown no aversion to the notion that Grimsby was to be murdered after he accomplished the task. Her indifferent attitude had been unexpected. He remembered their conversation.

And you have no problem with murdering Grimsby too!

What is he to me? We do what we must!

But, by your own admission, he has been loyal to you. Does that mean nothing?

As long as I have money, I can buy loyalty.

It was at that very moment that he realised the tenuous nature of their relationship. He had supposed that they were friends or, at the least, business associates who needed one another. But if Gisela had no allegiance to her faithful servant, she would have none to him. This revelation was eye-opening, especially in light of her present frame of mind.

The final proof that Gisela was becoming more unbalanced, one might even say obsessed, was evidenced by what subject occupied her thoughts that day. Instead of attending to his plans regarding Georgiana which would make them both a good deal wealthier, she was preoccupied with having him find the identity of a young woman.

Doubtless, there was not a soul in all of London who had not heard of Wilkens slight of her at the Trousdale dinner party. But that Gisela was willing to spend precious time and pay a goodly amount of money to learn the name of the young woman Wilkens was courting, just so that she could confront her with Wilkens’ dissolute ways, was preposterous!

Nonetheless, Wickham felt that he still needed Gisela’s help. After the marriage to Darcy, she was supposed to gain Georgiana’s trust by championing her right to choose her own course without her brother’s interference. Thus, having no choice, Wickham indulged her curiosity, using his contacts to ascertain the young woman’s name, Elizabeth Bennet, and the fact that she was of little or no consequence in society.

Gisela had been quite giddy upon gaining the woman’s name before learning that Miss Bennet had left London with Miss Wilkens, and they were bound for Ramsgate. Reluctantly, she had acquiesced to his demand that she wait until after their business with Georgiana was complete to continue her mission of revenge against Wilkens.

Wickham sighed heavily. He prayed Gisela kept her word. Thus far, the only part of his scheme that had worked flawlessly was the way the widow Younge had succumbed to his charm.

Nothing is going to hinder my plans to become rich at Darcy’s expense, especially not Gisela’s petty little vendettas! And after I am secure in my marriage, I shall phase out any reliance on Mrs. Darcy or Lady de Bourgh!

~~~*~~~

On the Road to Ramsgate

Elizabeth’s eyes may have been closed, but her mind was busily engaged, pleasantly recalling Mr. Bingley’s call on her two days before.

Are you certain that Miss Bennet would welcome my return?

I am positive that my sister would be delighted to see you again, sir

Elizabeth smiled with the memory of Bingley’s wide grin. From the looks of it, at least Jane could count on a love match with a successful gentleman as Bingley had declared his intention to return to Netherfield straightaway. There would be no need for her to send a letter to Jane, as he would be in Meryton long before the post. And with her sister happily situated, it would not be incumbent upon her to accept a man she loathed. If Madeline Gardiner had not already set off for her sister’s house, she would have refused to accompany Alfreda to Ramsgate. This dreadful farce was almost finished.

I shall inform Aunt upon my return to London that I shall NOT marry Lord Wilkens under any circumstance!

“Elizabeth, are you awake?” Alfreda leaned over to touch her friend’s hand, which brought her eyes open.

“I was just woolgathering.”

“We are almost to our destination—the inn where Brother and I always stay. It is half-way between London and Ramsgate and is very comfortable. The proprietors know Brother well and provide the best suites for our use. He made arrangements for our stay when he travelled last week, so all is in readiness. There is nothing to dread in staying here.”

Elizabeth nodded at Alfreda before her eyes rested on the older woman to Miss Wilkens’ left, Mrs. Armstrong. She had once been Alfreda’s governess but now served as her maid and companion. Though pleasant enough, she was not talkative, and Elizabeth hardly realised she was accompanying them at times. Seeing Elizabeth’s gaze, the older woman smiled, but it did not seem to reach her eyes.

Elizabeth returned a wan smile, trying to think of something to say to break the silence. Noting horsemen now riding on either side of the coach, she declared, “My goodness! I have not realised until this moment that your brother provided a small army to accompany us.”

Alfreda laughed. “Yes. My brother is very protective. We always travel with two footmen, a postillion, a driver and two servants on horseback. He says you can never be too careful, not with all the highwaymen on these roads.”

“I suppose he could be right.”

“Oh, yes. Brother is always right.”

Elizabeth sighed at Alfreda’s assertion. Miss Wilkens took her brother’s side in every instance, but of late, the adulation had begun to fray her nerves.

“I cannot imagine anyone always being right.” Elizabeth offered, trying to get his sister to examine her admiration. “Surely he is capable of mistakes, as we all are.”

Alfreda flinched, while Mrs. Armstrong seemed about to speak but thought better of it and held her tongue. Since neither was to reply, Elizabeth continued her exploration of the subject.

“All I am saying is that I have found him to be wrong about a lot of things in the short time I have known him.”

The other women exchanged guarded looks before meeting Elizabeth’s eyes. From their expressions, one would have thought she had just uttered blasphemy. Alfreda coughed self-consciously, bringing a shaky hand which held a handkerchief up to her mouth.

Then, with a look that showed no mirth, she stated very deliberately, “While I am sure that occasionally you may think him wrong, you will find that my brother is very intelligent and considers things more thoroughly than most. However, may I propose that, until you are better acquainted, you refrain from telling him outright that he is wrong? He is unused to having women speak their mind to him, I am afraid. My late mother always deferred to him, as do I. And I have found it best to let him think you agree and work on presenting your viewpoint in a less threatening manner.”

Elizabeth was incredulous. “What is threatening about stating your opinion?”

Just at that moment the coach came to an abrupt halt, and the sounds of the driver issuing orders and the footmen climbing down from the top alerted the passengers that they had arrived at their destination. Unfortunately, it also afforded Alfreda the opportunity to focus on their arrival, instead of answering Elizabeth’s question.

Not sure what to make of it, Elizabeth followed Miss Wilkens out the door of the coach, making a mental note to bring up the subject again.

~~~*~~~

Longbourn
The Parlour

Jane sat stiffly on the settee, trying and utterly failing to appear pleased. She concentrated on lifting a lukewarm cup of tea to her lips without allowing her hand to shake because of her great disappointment. Across from her sat John Lucas, who had barely said a word in the half-hour since his arrival. He, too, seemed extraordinarily focused on the cup in his hand.

To her right was her father, who sat at a small table pretending to read a newspaper. Every so often, he would peer over the top of the paper, as though studying her. She could not decipher from his expression if he was amused by what was happening, as he had been when Mr. Bingley called, or if he sensed her loathing of Mr. Lucas. Nonetheless, she was near the end of her patience with his entertainment at her expense. Just when she thought she might scream with frustration, Mrs. Bennet burst into the room, startling everyone. She was followed closely by Mrs. Hill, who carried a plate of biscuits and a fresh pot of tea.

“Set it down here, Hill,” her mother ordered, motioning to the table where her father sat. Mr. Bennet frowned and moved his paper from atop the surface to his lap. Mrs. Hill had barely quitted the room when she accosted him. “Come, Mr. Bennet. I have something important to discuss with you in the library.”

Mr. Bennet lowered the paper and looked over his glasses. “I can assure you, madam, I am not moving from this spot. I have just come from a lengthy meeting with my neighbours regarding a drainage problem and I am exhausted.”

“Oh, Mr. Bennet! You try my nerves so!” she cried before addressing Jane’s caller. “Mr. Lucas, would you mind escorting Jane to the garden? Then my husband and I will not have to withdraw to the library? I shall be glad to have Hill bring the refreshments to the table beyond the roses.”

Lucas eagerly responded to Mrs. Bennet’s suggestion by quickly standing. “I would be most pleased to do so.”  He held out an arm to Jane. Sighing, she glanced to her father, who shook his head in dismay and looked back to his paper.

Jane stood, placing her dainty hand on the proffered arm. Slowly, she and John Lucas made their way out of the house and down the gravel path to a small, white ironwork table. It sat just past the rose garden, next to a brick wall covered with ivy. The place was so lovely that Jane had often dreamed of being proposed to in this very spot.  But in her dreams, it was not Mr. Lucas doing the proposing.

Lucas led her directly to one of the small benches on either side. She sat, refusing to look up at him. He hesitated beside her for a moment before taking a seat on the opposite bench.

“Ahem. Miss Bennet?”

Jane forced herself to meet his gaze. Without thinking, she began to analyse why she found him so unattractive. He was not ugly, though he was nondescript. However, as he began another conversation by mentioning Lady Lucas, Jane realised that it was his total reliance on his mother’s opinion that predominantly coloured her view of him.

“Several times of late, my mother has spoken to me about the expectations for my future and the future of Lucas Lodge. As you know, I am the heir, and it shall be my estate and my responsibility at some point.” He swallowed hard. Jane was not smiling as politely now as she had before they had gotten better acquainted.

“Mother has emphasised the importance of securing a wife and producing an heir.  She wishes me to seek a modest, unassuming young woman who will fit well in our family, one who would not cause discord.  It is her belief that the sooner I marry…”

Jane was not listening to the rest of his words, for as he droned on, she stared into the distance. And in her mind’s eye, she pictured the one man that she had hoped to be having this conversation with—Mr. Bingley.

~~~*~~~

Netherfield

As his coach made its way through Meryton, Charles Bingley congratulated himself on leaving his staff in place at Netherfield. Now that he had found an opportunity to return, he was sure that it would not take very long to get the house in order due to his forethought. All that his housekeeper, Mrs. Watkins, should have to do is stock the pantry and retrieve clean linens for his bed, since he was travelling alone. He had made sure not to mention anything to Caroline of his plans to return to this village, instead, letting her assume that he was on his way to Bristol to check on the newly discovered ship.

The truth was that he was not needed in Bristol. Darcy’s cousin, Randall Sanderson, a barrister, along with Mr. Carter had everything well in hand. They were in the process of interviewing the sailors and townspeople to discover where the ship’s goods had been diverted and had already located a considerable percentage of the wares in a local warehouse. In fact, it looked as though almost the entire shipment that was thought to be lost forever would be recovered. They were even hopeful of finding information about the first ship that had been reported missing as well. The local magistrate was not sure if they would ever ascertain just who the mastermind of the theft was unless Captain Grier decided to talk and, thus far, he had refused. Nonetheless, the magistrate thought that the threat of a hanging might just do the trick.

In any event, Charles was delighted, for the time being, to set aside the circumstances that had occupied his every waking hour for the last few weeks and concentrate on the one who occupied his nights—Jane Bennet. He had just pictured her beautiful face when the coach came to a sudden halt, and he pulled back the curtain to find that they were already at Netherfield. A footman leaped off the coach to open the door, and he found himself staring at an empty portico. No one came out to meet him. He thought it odd, but began to ascend the stairs just as the front door flew open.

“Mr. Bingley. Welcome home, sir,” Mr. Mercer said, bowing as low as his arthritic back would allow. “I am very pleased to see you again.”  As he took his young master’s coat and hat, Mercer’s expression seemed to belie his happiness at Bingley’s return.

“Thank you, Mercer. Have you had everything you needed in my absence?” Charles enquired, all the while absentmindedly removing his gloves. Suddenly he stopped, looking about the house. Something was not right. “And where is Mrs. Watkins?”