Unforgiving Temper (27 page)

The small coach sailed through the forest
with breakneck speed. Somewhat alarmed, Elizabeth looked to
Lord Grissholm who sat between the two women. He seemed
unaware of anything but the road ahead. She then looked to Rebecca,
sorry that she could not be next to her and offer some comfort. The
girl was gripping the edge of the carriage with both hands, eyes
closed in terror. Just then, the gig found a rut, jostling its
passengers violently. Rebecca stifled a cry and Elizabeth winced in
pain as something hard struck her hip. Looking down, she was
surprised to see the handle of a pistol jutting out from beneath
Lord Grissholm's coat. The viscount glanced down in time to
see the shocked look on Elizabeth's face, but his only response was
to quickly close his coat over the pistol and flick the horse to a
faster pace.

When they emerged from the forest,
Lord Grissholm slowed the horse somewhat, still keeping a
brisk pace which did not encourage conversation. Not that Elizabeth
was eager for any. She rubbed her bruised hip, wondering why he
would be carrying a weapon and why he would be out looking for them
at all. He was obviously displeased, but she would not let Rebecca
take any blame for their breach of conduct; not if she could help
it.

Coming to a stop in front of the manor,
Lord Grissholm wordlessly handed the reins to the waiting
footman and helped the ladies down, then led them up the steps.
Elizabeth was reminded of the day she had come to Everton and first
ascended these very steps. She was confident that she would only
see them once more – as she was leaving. Reaching the main hall,
she was startled from her thoughts when Lord Grissholm
suddenly turned and addressed them.

“Rebecca, you look a fright. Freshen up
before you come to dinner. Miss Bennet, come to my study. I
would have a word with you.”

“Of course, my lord,” Elizabeth answered
quietly as Rebecca scurried away. “I have something to say as
well.”

“This way, if you please.”

He took Elizabeth's elbow and steered her
down another hallway. Although he was by no means pleased with her
recent behavior, he was happy to find that she no longer flinched
at his touch. Her arm sat comfortably in his hand as he guided her
to his study and sat her in a chair near the hearth. His happiness,
however, was fleeting, and his satisfaction dissolved into an
impatient sigh when he saw the familiar, obstinate lift of her
chin.

“Miss Bennet, I wish to discuss your
position here at Everton – and with Rebecca.”

“My lord, I realize that after my, um,
display yesterday, I have not met your expectations of a companion
for Rebec, I mean, Miss Ballard; but I pray you do not allow it to
reflect upon her. Our outing today was entirely my doing. She has
done nothing wrong.”

“Miss Bennet…”

“I know she should have been doing things
more befitting a lady, but it was such a beautiful day and it
seemed a pity to waste it in…”

“Miss Bennet, it is not the fact that
you went out for a picnic. It is that you went
alone
.”

“But I walk alone quite often at home. I
cannot see why that should be such a problem.”

“I will tell you why that is a problem,
madam!” Grissholm exploded in a tightly controlled anger. “You are
not in Hertfordshire, you are in Cumberland. If you were not so
confoundedly independent, you might have taken the time to enquire
as to the appropriate route for your outing this afternoon and not
place my ward and yourself in danger.”

“Danger? It seemed harmless enough. Grey's
Fell is not so steep as to be any real danger.”

“Have you considered there are other dangers
besides the possibility of taking a fall? Imagine my concern when –
directly upon returning from a meeting with my neighbors to discuss
the problem of a band of Irish gypsies in the neighborhood – I find
the two ladies under my protection have gone out on a picnic –
alone! Are you familiar with Irish gypsies, Miss Bennet? Have
you any idea what they might do to a young woman they find alone
and unprotected? The gypsies were seen within that very forest not
three days ago!”

Elizabeth paled, thinking of their wild ride
and the pistol Lord Grissholm had carried. “I had no
idea.”

“That much is obvious,” Grissholm said
coldly. “You and Rebecca were very fortunate this afternoon.”

“Thank you, my lord, for coming after us. I
am very sorry for the inconvenience I have caused. If you will tell
me what arrangements have been made, I shall pack my things.”

“Arrangements? Pack? What are you talking
about?”

“Considering my impertinence yesterday and my
reckless care for Miss Ballard's safety today, I naturally assumed
that I would be leaving.”

“You are not leaving.”

“But, sir, you said you wanted to discuss my
position here.”

“I do. Until now, your duties have been
confined to that of Rebecca's companion. There is now a need for
additional responsibilities. I am having a dinner party in three
weeks and she will need to learn her duties as a hostess. It will
not be a large affair – something small and private. Just enough to
give her a taste of what will be expected of her in the future. Are
you able to instruct her in this?”

Elizabeth was stunned. “A dinner party? Then
I am
not
dismissed?”

“Of course not. Your questionable – shall we
say
conduct
– of yesterday and today are forgotten,”
Grissholm gave her a crooked smile, but the eyes beneath his arched
brows were serious. “However, I will not tolerate any repetition of
these failings. There are certain standards expected of all the
members of my household – you included, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth's head was spinning. His
forbearance was beyond anything she ever expected from him. She was
not dismissed! There was yet time to ensure Jane's happiness! He
had forgiven her impertinence and reckless behavior. How was this
possible? Her heart swelled with relief and gratitude.

“Well, Miss Bennet?” Grissholm called
her back to the conversation. “Is it possible for you to have
Rebecca ready for a taste of society in three weeks' time?”

“Yes, Lord Grissholm, Rebecca is still
very shy in company, but I believe she is up to the challenge. I
would be happy to assist her.”

“Your – enthusiasm – is appreciated. Now that
that is settled, I am sure you are wanting to prepare for
dinner.”

Grissholm held out his hand to Elizabeth and
helped her to her feet, holding on to her hand a bit longer than
would have been considered polite; but she was too happy at the
unexpected turn of events to notice the liberty he had taken or the
shrewd smile that tugged at his mouth when she did not pull
away.

Rising from her chair, Kitty stifled an
impatient groan as she went to fluff her mother's pillows for the
fifth time in almost as many minutes. Jane gave her sister an
understanding smile and turned her gaze back to the view outside
their mother's bedroom window. A great sense of loss tore at her
heart as her eyes followed the path winding through the rose garden
below. She could not stop her mind from reliving those moments when
she and Mr. Bingley had walked that path a few short weeks
earlier.

He had very nearly declared himself, and she
had been too afraid of being hurt by his impetuous nature to
encourage it. If only things had turned out differently, perhaps
his affection would have proved true. But she would never find out
now that the cruel, ruinous gossip had reared its ugly head. She
stared pensively at the roses, their faded and wilted state seeming
to reflect her family's own declining fortunes.

Jane's melancholy thoughts were interrupted
as Kitty dropped back into her chair with a discontented sigh. Jane
sighed as well. A dreadful gloom had settled over the entire
household.

As if realizing she was no longer the object
of their attention, Mrs. Bennet gave a low protracted wail and
began her catalog of ills once again.

“What a dreadful state I am in, my dears – I
am frightened out of my wits; and have such tremblings, such
flutterings all over me; such spasms in my side, and pains in my
head, and such beatings at heart, that I can get no rest by night
nor by day.”

“Do not distress yourself so, Mama,” Jane
reassured her in a calming tone as she moved to the chaise where
her mother lounged amidst the lace and ribbons of her dressing
gown. “Uncle will be here in a few days and he will know what is to
be done.”

“Oh, I do hope so, for I cannot bear this
much longer. That your father should be so ill was bad enough, and
now to have such a calamity be brought upon us by my own daughter!
I told your father she was always far too independent for her own
good, but he would do nothing to curb her! And now look at us! We
are shunned by all– not one visitor this whole week save your Aunt
Phillips.” The recollection of their degraded social standing
brought on a fresh volley of moans. “Oh, it is too much, too much
indeed!”

“Perhaps some fresh air will help you feel
better,” Jane suggested.

“I do not want any fresh air,” her mother
muttered crossly.

“We could see how your new jasmine and
honeysuckle plantings are doing,” Jane pressed softly. Trying to
lift her mother out of the mire of self-pity was a necessity if she
were going to retain any sanity at all, and her mother's pride in
her carefully-planned gardens was the only thing she could think of
that would rouse sufficient interest. “A turn in the garden would
help, I am sure. Kitty and I will help you dress.”

Drawing her mother up in spite of the
half-hearted protests, Jane motioned for Kitty to bring some fresh
clothes. Together, they worked quickly, Jane coaxing and praising
her mother in the distracting manner she employed with her young
cousins.

They were very nearly done when Hill knocked
at the door and announced there was a visitor downstairs. Surprised
at the announcement, all three women stopped what they were doing
and turned to the housekeeper in unison.

“A visitor? Who is it?” Mrs. Bennet
exclaimed with a mixture of wonder and anxiety.

“It's Mr. Bingley, ma'am. He's waiting
in the parlor.”

They all stared at Hill in stunned silence.
In the next moment, Jane saw her mother's dark despairing mood
transform into an air of pure ecstasy.

“Hill, tell Mr. Bingley we shall be down
directly,” her mother quickly instructed the housekeeper, then
gleefully snatched the shawl from Jane's outstretched hands. “Oh,
Jane! We are saved! Look smart, my dear; and pinch your cheeks a
little for you look quite pale. You must look your best.”

“Mother,” Jane's voice held a note of
disapproval, “I am sure Mr. Bingley has come for another
reason altogether.”

“That may be or not. The point is, he has
come. And there is a possibility that he is ignorant of our
troubles. If you could get him to propose right away, there may be
some hope for us yet.”

“No!” cried Jane, stepping back in horror. “I
could never do such a thing to him.”

“You
must
do as I say,” there was a
desperate, almost hysteric edge to her mother's voice. “It is the
best chance we have of keeping this family from total ruin, no
thanks to your sister. Would you break my heart as well? Now come
along, Mr. Bingley is waiting!”

With trepidation, Jane silently followed her
mother down the stairs and into the parlor where Mr. Bingley
was found waiting with an anxious smile upon his face. At their
entrance, he eagerly stepped forward to be received. Her mother did
not waste a moment in welcoming him.

“My dear Mr. Bingley, how good it is to
see you!”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Bennet, Miss
Kitty…
Miss Bennet
. I hope you are all well.”

An attractive blush washed over Jane's face
as soon as Mr. Bingley spoke her name, effectively dismissing
any concern her mother might have had for the state of her
complexion.

“Well enough, Mr. Bingley, well enough.”
Mrs. Bennet replied, encouraged more than ever by his warm
greeting. “It is so good of you to visit us. Do sit down.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” He cast a cautious glance
in Jane's direction before sitting. “And may I enquire after
Mr. Bennet?”

“He is much better, thank you; although not
as well as we would like. His speech is still very much impaired
and he has not yet regained the use of his limbs.” Mrs. Bennet
allowed a small, martyred smile to cross her face before
brightening visibly. “And what of you, sir, have you been away – to
London perhaps? We have not seen you for some days now.”

“Mary and I saw him just yesterday, Mama,”
Kitty declared. “In the village. Did we not, Mr. Bingley?”

Mrs. Bennet shot her daughter a quelling
glance.

“What did I say?!” Kitty complained. “It is
the truth!”

“Yes, so it is, Miss Kitty,” Bingley smiled a
little nervously. “On the square, I believe. I was very happy to
see you both.”

There was an awkward lapse in the
conversation as Mrs. Bennet appeared to be re-ordering her
thoughts. Mr. Bingley cleared his throat quietly and studied
the handle of his walking stick. Jane blushed again, hoping
Mr. Bingley did not comprehend that Kitty's unwanted
interruption had mired her mother's original plan, whatever it had
been.

At last, Mrs. Bennet seemed to have
found a new direction and pursued it enthusiastically.

“And have you done much fishing since your
return?” she inquired.

“Fishing? Er…why…no, ma'am…I have not. I…that
is to say, I have yet to learn the best spots at Netherfield.”

“I am not certain what you have at
Netherfield Park, sir; but Mr. Bennet could tell you, if he
were able, that we have the best spot in the county for trout right
on our very own property. Yes, we do!”