Unforgiving Temper (12 page)

“Of course. I shall certainly work toward
that end.”

After a long pause, when she realized he had
nothing further to say, she ventured to speak.

“Sir, might I inquire after Miss Ballard?
Should I expect to meet her soon?”

As if in answer to her questions, the door
opened and an attractive, auburn-haired girl of about fifteen
entered the room. First casting a short, inquisitive glance at
Elizabeth, she then spied Lord Grissholm and moved quickly in
his direction. In an instant, Elizabeth could see how devastatingly
shy she was and it was heartrending to watch as the girl approached
her guardian with timidity and downcast eyes.

“My lord, you wished to see me?”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, may I present my
ward, Miss Rebecca Ballard. Rebecca, this is Miss Elizabeth
Bennet.”

“I-I am pleased to make your acquaintance,
Miss Bennet,” Rebecca said quietly, looking back to her
guardian with apprehension and some confusion.

“I have engaged Miss Bennet as your
companion. Mrs. Holiby's services are no longer required.”

Rebecca's face instantly drained of any color
and her voice faded to a mere whisper. “My lord, Mrs. Holiby has
been with me since I can remember! I beg of you –”

“Nevertheless, she is gone. You are nearly
sixteen and no longer require a governess. You will now welcome
Miss Bennet to Everton.”

Elizabeth was hard pressed to hide her dismay
at his pronouncement. His lordship was obviously a man accustomed
to giving direction and having it obeyed without question, but she
found it profoundly disturbing that he took no notice nor showed
the slightest concern for the distress he had caused.

Still alarmingly pale, Rebecca obeyed
immediately in a strained, barely audible timbre.
“Miss Bennet, I welcome you to Everton Manor.”

Sensing it would only make matters worse,
Elizabeth stilled the impulse to reach out a comforting hand to the
devastated girl. Instead, she gave her the most sincere,
understanding smile she could manage in front of the viscount.

“Thank you, Miss Ballard. I very much look
forward to our becoming better acquainted.”

The necessary introductions having been
accomplished, Lord Grissholm brusquely dismissed the girl and
turned back to the ladies with an obvious wish to be done.

“Miss Bennet, Mrs. Younge, you must
be fatigued from your journey and will want to rest.”

“I would appreciate that very much, sir,”
replied Elizabeth, “but I fear that Mrs. Younge must return to
London immediately. Would it be too much trouble for your carriage
to take her back to the post-station right away?”

“There is no need, I assure you,” said
Mrs. Younge, casting a dark look in Elizabeth's direction. “I
have no pressing business to speed my return.”

“You are to be commended for your devotion to
duty, madam; but did you not mention your sister's illness to me
just today?”

“It is nothing,” she replied with a sudden
wariness. “I am sure his Lordship would want me to stay a few days
and help you settle into the household before I take my leave.”

“It is very generous of you,” replied
Elizabeth sweetly, “but with your sister so very ill, and her
family in such desperate need of you, it would be cruel indeed to
keep you detained any longer. I thank you for bringing me all this
way, and rest assured that I shall not forget the
kindness
you have shown me.”

“She has a trifling cold,” said
Mrs. Younge desperately, looking to Grissholm for support and
finding none.

“You are too good to make light of your
troubles, Mrs. Younge; but did not the doctor send word it was
very likely pneumonia? I know how worried you must be and I would
not dream of depriving your family of your sisterly devotion. I
urge you to make haste though; for I believe I heard the clerk say
the late post-coach departs in less than an hour.”

“But I cannot – I am not sure that
–”sputtered Mrs. Younge helplessly.

“In view of these circumstances,” Grissholm
cut in, obviously intrigued by Elizabeth's clever ploy to rid
herself of her companion, “I would not wish to detain you a moment
longer. My carriage is at your disposal.”

Mrs. Younge flushed with anger and
mortification, but Lord Grissholm's presence prevented her
from offering any strong response. “You are too kind to worry for
me so, Miss Bennet,” she finally replied in a voice stiff with
resentment. “I look forward to the pleasure of returning the favor
one day.”

Lord Grissholm stood silent as Elizabeth
watched her companion of five days briskly gather her things and
stride angrily from the room. When the door finally closed behind
Mrs. Younge, Grissholm addressed her once again.

“Your presence is not required for dinner
this evening, Miss Bennet. A tray shall be sent up for you. I
will, however, expect you at breakfast – seven o'clock sharp. Mrs.
Moore will show you to your room now.”

A slight motion to the footman standing at
the door brought a stout, dark-haired woman of about forty almost
instantly.

Elizabeth was astonished that she had been
dismissed so abruptly, but was at the same time grateful that she
would not have to summon the energy required to appear for dinner.
She followed the housekeeper out, suddenly very tired and
desperately feeling the need to be alone.

Some hours later, Elizabeth sat at the
ornately-carved writing desk in her room and stared at the sheet of
paper before her. How much should she tell her father of her
journey to Cumberland? Would it do any good to tell him of things
he had no power to change? Her indecision and the effects of a
satisfying meal and a relaxing bath finally gave way to a brief
note simply telling him she had arrived safely and giving him
directions of where to send his letters.

Wanting to have the letter posted as soon as
possible, she went in search of a footman. It did not take long to
find one who could accommodate her and she returned to her room
straight away. Reaching the hallway outside her door, she paused on
the threshold, feeling a pair of eyes upon her. Turning around, she
saw Rebecca peering out from a partially open door across the hall,
her deep blue eyes swollen and red from hours of crying.

Elizabeth's sympathetic smile was greeted
with a sullen stare. Hoping to offer some comfort, she took a step
toward the girl but the gesture was rejected with a solid thud of
the closing door.

“Checkmate!” Mr. Bennet grinned as he
swept the bishop from the board and Bingley cringed in defeat. “I
must say, Mr. Bingley, you have been a little more of a
challenge today.”

“Thank you, sir, I try. As you have seen
twice now, the finer points of the game tend to elude me.”

“Patience, my friend, patience. It will aid
you every time.”

“My good friend, Mr. Darcy, gives me
similar advice,” Bingley smiled, trying to ignore the quiet snort
that erupted from Mrs. Bennet. “Shall we try again – say on
Thursday?”

“Thursday? Yes, that should do nicely. I even
believe the ladies will be happy if you come in time for tea. Is
that not so, Mrs. Bennet?”

“Oh, yes! Tea on Thursday would be lovely, I
am sure. We are always honored when you visit us, Mr. Bingley.
It would be most – ”

“Well, well, my dear. Mr. Bingley has
humored my love for chess long enough and must have other matters
to attend. I am sure I do.”

“Quite right, Mr. Bennet,” his wife
agreed, casting a meaningful look to Jane, “but we cannot end this
most enjoyable time without our Mary playing something for us, can
we? Shall you stay a little longer, Mr. Bingley?”

“Of course, Mrs. Bennet. I would be
delighted!” Bingley exclaimed as Mr. Bennet sank unhappily
back into his chair.

Surprised and pleased at the unexpected
attention, Mary quickly produced a favorite score and settled
herself at the piano-forte.

Bingley was happy to oblige Mrs. Bennet
for he had hoped his visit would present an opportunity to speak
with Jane, and until this moment, none had materialized. He moved
to the open chair next to her on the pretense of having a better
view. Mary's first notes filled the room and her efforts had not
reached the end of the first page before he began.

“Miss Bennet, my sisters have just
arrived at Netherfield, along with Mr. Darcy, and his sister.
If you have no previous engagements, Caroline would be pleased if
you could join us for tea tomorrow afternoon. I would like it –
that is to say, she would like it very much if you would come.”

Jane's expression brightened at the
invitation, only to darken with disappointment just as quickly.
Charles was puzzled. They had spoken only twice since his return,
but he had thought there was great progress in their understanding
of one another.

“I have no previous engagements, sir,” said
Jane quietly, “but do you not think it might be an imposition upon
certain members of your party?”

“An imposition? How could it be an
imposition?”

“I…I was told by your sister,
Miss Bingley that…she was kind enough to inform me of
your…admiration…for Miss Darcy. I…thought perhaps my presence
would cause some discomfort for…some of your guests,” she finished
and looked down in awkward silence.

“Upon my word! I never….I…I am amazed! I…I
cannot say what possessed Caroline to convey such a thing,” he
whispered anxiously. “You must believe me, Miss Bennet, there
is
no
understanding of any kind between Miss Darcy and
myself. I give you my word. The
only
connection I have to
the Darcy family is my good friend,
Mr. Darcy
!”

“But your sister –”

“Miss Bennet,” he met her eyes, refusing
to let her turn away as he spoke, “I assure you that your presence
at Netherfield would not cause any discomfort in the least. In
truth, the effect would be quite the opposite.”

Jane caught her breath and finally pulled her
eyes away from his, trying to conceal the blush rising in her
cheeks.

“In that case, sir, I shall be delighted to
accept.”

* * * *

“You have to let me go, Papa!”

“Indeed, I do not, Lydia.”

“But Mrs. Forster has invited me as her
particular friend!”

“Particular or not, you shall not go to
Brighton.”

“Mama, my heart shall break if I do not
go!”

Mrs. Bennet could contain herself no
longer. Setting down her glass of wine, she fixed an endearing
smile upon her husband seated at the other end of the dining table
and entered the fray.

“My dear Mr. Bennet, surely you would
not have us slight Mrs. Forster by refusing to let our dear sweet
Lydia accompany her to the seaside?”

Mr. Bennet slowly removed his napkin and
placed it on the table, trying to control his rising agitation. He
wanted to say, “And have her disgrace the family completely? Not
for all the Mrs. Forsters in the world!” But instead, he rose and
faced his wife squarely.

“I have no intention of slighting Mrs.
Forster, but Lydia shall not go.”

“Oh, Mr. Bennet!” cried his wife
petulantly. “How can you be so cruel? You have scarce allowed the
poor girl out of doors this entire week!”

“Nevertheless, my mind is made up. I shall be
in my library, not to be disturbed.”

Making his retreat, he turned a deaf ear to
the sounds of Lydia's wailing and Mrs. Bennet's soothing
assurances.

“There, there, my dear. He shall come round
by and by. You shall see.”

Softly closing the library door,
Mr. Bennet sank into the soft cushions of his favorite reading
chair, feeling exhausted. The shock of Lydia's shameful behavior
still fresh in his mind, he vowed he would not relent his decision.
He could not allow her unguarded and imprudent manner to disgrace
the entire family. Besides, what if the blackmailer was among
Colonel Forster's regiment? He could not risk it.

Taking Lydia's letter from his pocket, he
examined it yet again looking for anything that would reveal the
rake's identity.
What was the girl thinking to write such a
letter - and exactly how many more are there?
Beads of sweat
formed on his brow and a trembling hand wiped them away.
God
forbid they should become public!

Dejectedly, he looked around the comfortably
cluttered library, searching for answers. His eyes were drawn to
the luminous object lying on his desktop across the room and a low,
contemptuous snort erupted from him. It had been years since he
last took the ancient dueling sword down from its place above the
hearth, and his attempt at some practice strokes that very morning
had left him weak and gasping for breath within a few short
minutes. Absently rubbing at the ache in his arm that had come with
the morning's exercise, he conceded to Lizzy's earlier argument. He
was in no shape to fight this man – whoever he was.

* * * *

A faint knock at the door sounded distantly
in William Bennet's mind and he opened his eyes against a dull,
throbbing pain that filled his head. He was astonished to find
himself lying on the floor of his library. Puzzled at how he came
to be there, he tried to sit up and instantly regretted the effort
as the room began spinning wildly and his stomach lurched
nauseously. Dropping his head back to the carpet with short,
deliberate breaths, he attempted to roll onto his back. His
astonishment quickly grew to alarm as he discovered his right arm
and leg refused to respond to his efforts.

As he looked about for something to help him
get up, he spied Lydia's shameful letter lying on the floor, just
beyond his right hand. The letter! If someone should see it, the
family would be ruined. He reached out to retrieve it, but his
paralyzed arm would not respond no matter how hard he tried. He
tried again, reaching across with his left hand, but it was beyond
his reach and the movement only succeeded in bringing on another
debilitating wave of vertigo.