Sufficient Encouragement Refresh– Chapter Eighteen

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Chapter Eighteen

Two days after Elizabeth had seen Mr. Darcy while out walking, a message came from Caroline Bingley. She requested that Jane and Elizabeth spend the following Monday morning at Netherfield.

“I will arrange for the carriage,” their father grumbled.

Elizabeth was surprised by his mood but remembered her mother had been more trying than usual with the excitement of Jane’s first real prospect of marriage. No matter their father’s strangeness, Jane and Elizabeth thanked him profusely before Mrs. Bennet might scheme of some way for them to remain at Netherfield for another week.

The sisters arrived at Netherfield with feelings widely different from their last entrance to the house, which had been the night of the Netherfield ball. Then Jane had been assured of the affection of her two friends and nearly as much of their brother. Since Caroline’s letter, however, she was far less certain and had noted it to her sister. Elizabeth felt Jane’s nervousness but never worried over Bingley’s regard, and so her thoughts were primarily on meeting Miss Darcy. Elizabeth was more than commonly anxious to please the girl and yet fearful that the brother’s partiality had raised high expectations.

Of seeing Darcy again, she was entirely unsure how she felt. If she understood correctly from their chance meeting the other day, his admiration had not diminished, nor was he offended by her last treatment of him. She now recognised she had reasons to esteem and respect him. She was even grateful for his devotion and could not deny she felt an interest in his welfare. Her vanity told her that he may be in her power, and she only wished she knew if employing it would lead to the happiness of them both.

Miss Bingley greeted them with cold civility. “How nice to see you again, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” she said with an elegant curtsy.

Mr. Bingley quickly came to his sister’s side as the ladies returned the civility. “It does seem as though it has been a very long time since we were last all together dancing here.” He looked intently at Jane.

“It was only the twenty sixth of November, Charles,” Mrs. Hurst declared. “You were gone hardly past eight days.”

“Eight days may as well have been eight months!”

Jane smiled. “It has been nearly a fortnight, and a fortnight may seem a very long time indeed on occasion.”

A young lady standing nearby, who was tall with a womanly figure and countenance giggled. “Forgive me,” she whispered and looked quickly to Mr. Darcy for acceptance.

Surely this was Miss Darcy. Elizabeth began to walk to them. “If your thoughts tend like mine, then you were laughing only because you know the nearly irrepressible excitement one feels when looking forward to an event and yet it being of some distance away.”

“Yes, that is it entirely!” she cried. “I have been looking forward to meeting you now for nearly a month!”

“Then you must wait no longer,” Darcy said and smiled affectionately at both ladies before making the formal introduction.

A gentleman who had been pouring a glass of port with Mr. Hurst then came forward. “Yes, dear Georgie was unbearable with her desire to come to Hertfordshire.”

He smiled at Miss Darcy, who returned it, and Elizabeth was happy to see the younger lady was not too embarrassed to be teased.

“It was Darcy, though, who apparently needed to come so quickly that he needed to ride with Bingley ahead of us.”

The gentleman gave Darcy a good-natured clap on the shoulder, but Elizabeth saw Darcy stiffen. “Bingley asked if I might journey with him.”

Wishing to put Darcy at ease, Elizabeth spoke. “I think you have settled our debateat last, Mr. Darcy. It seems on general matters of little importance you will easily give sway to the persuasion of a friend. Unless, of course, your other friend here had suggested you remain in London until the originally appointed hour?”

Darcy’s lips turned up in a slow smile. “You have the right of it. My cousin did attempt to delay me, but it must mean I prefer Bingley that much the more. Miss Elizabeth, allow me to introduce my cousin, Viscount Arlington. Arlington, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Arlington bowed, and Elizabeth curtsied.

The group began to take their seats, and Darcy escorted Georgiana to Elizabeth’s side. “May I retrieve you some refreshments?” he asked. Upon returning, he lowered his head while handing her the plate and spoke for Elizabeth’s ears only. “Perhaps you mistake the matter of my draw to Hertfordshire, and it is someone else entirely who persuaded me that returning as soon as possible was the best course.”

He looked her in the eye, but Elizabeth could not read his look at all. She attempted not to blush as he returned for his own plate and then took his seat.

The course of the morning passed swiftly. There was no chance for private conversation with either Darcy or his sister again, but everyone proved pleasant. Even Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst’s affection for Jane seemed to reawaken. Elizabeth almost considered they had resolved themselves to Mr. Bingley marrying Jane, but then she could not consider what would have changed their mind so quickly unless he had made some kind of announcement of his intent to them. The thought, which once would have brought joy, now brought only trepidation. If Jane and Bingley married soon, Darcy would surely return to London to allow the newlyweds space. Her mind rapidly considered if she could invite Georgiana to stay at Longbourn, but that would not solve the concern of frequently meeting with Darcy, as she now wished.

The sisters returned to Longbourn without incident and with smiles on their faces. As Elizabeth attempted to sleep that evening, she went over again how she might ensure both her sister’s happiness and her own but could draw no satisfactory conclusion.

*****

Richard Fitzwilliam scowled in the mirror as he awaited his valet’s return. His brother, James, and his cousin, Darcy, had hightailed it off to Hertfordshire. This left Richard alone against his mother’s machinations. Why Darcy suddenly wanted James at his side Richard knew not. He was Georgiana’s other guardian, and Darcy had spent the better part of a decade avoiding James. But then, James could come and go as he pleased, and Richard was bound to a soldier’s life. He had just returned from a third deployment to the Continent, and another one was possible.

Richard examined himself. The uniform covered up his scars. The jovial smile he plastered on his face masked the pain he felt at seeing friends and brothers in arms die on bloody battlefields. And all for what? He had not felt some great duty compel him to fight. Not like other men, such as his valet. Nor had he sought glory. He was intended for the church and a rash decision after the betrayal of a woman sent him fighting Boney as soon as the short-lived Treaty of Amiens was broken. No sound emitted from his lips but in his black, ugly heart he laughed. He had proved quite a good soldier, exceptionally adept at taking life. To imagine he was capable of helping lead others to an eternal one was beyond ridiculous. It must have been that flaw in him that sent the lovely Lucy Thrale longing for the arms of the first man she laid eyes on after recognizing the mistake she made in accepting his proposal. Fortunately for Richard, that man had been his brother. While the ton may think he was a rake, James, at least, had the honour to rebuff the lady’s advances and alert Richard. But then, James had been wiser about women than Richard. Now, they both had learned and had it on good authority there was only a handful of decent women on the earth: their mother, their deceased Aunt Anne, their cousins Anne and Georgiana, and the only woman who had captured James’ heart, Claire du Val.

“Here is a fresh one, sir.”

The voice of Richard’s valet, Jacob Truman, broke his musings. He held out a cravat.

“You should quit thinking about her. It will do you no favours this evening,” Truman said quietly while studying Richard’s face in the mirror.

Richard did not need to ask who Truman meant or how he had known. The men had served together for half a decade. When Richard found Truman, he was the beaten batman of a cruel colonel who found fault with everything Truman did simply for the colour of his skin. The fact that Truman was twice his size and could have had a successful career alongside Gentleman Jackson and Bill Richmond should have alarmed the abusive colonel. That Truman did not fight back spoke to his superior character. It was easy enough for Richard to secure Truman’s transfer. Since then, the men had become like brothers and had seen hell together.

Finishing with his cravat, Richard shrugged on his jacket. “I intend to leave as early as possible tonight but if, somehow, I am prevented, do not stay up. I am quite capable of dressing and undressing. Ridiculous that after all we have seen on the battlefield we now have to pretend as though I cannot tie a knot. Then again, perhaps we have been fighting Boney so long because the noblemen lead the military, and they are actually that inept.”

Truman tisked. “It is the way of the world.”

“With any luck, it will not be the way of ours for much longer. Have you thought more about what you will do when your contract is up?”

Truman’s eyes took on a vacant stare. “There is not much of a life for me other than a soldier’s.”

“There is your father’s store,” Richard pushed.

“Far too gentle for the likes of me,” the other man shook his head.

Richard understood the man’s true feelings. Returning to his home and circulating with the people he had once known was impossible for a man still running from the memories of a woman who had done him wrong. Which is precisely why Richard dreaded this evening.

The Countess of Matlock was on the hunt to see her sons and nephew married. After Richard boarded the carriage with his parents to attend a dinner at Lord and Lady Crenshaw’s, they extolled the virtues of the daughter and heiress. Richard acknowledged he might rather face another battalion of Frenchies than try to live in polite society with insipid debutantes and cunning widows flung at him. But then, the French could only maim his body and women were a vast deal more dangerous. If he had a heart left, he would be concerned.

*****

Lady Belinda Crenshaw sat on the bench in the garden of her family’s London house. She hated the city and all its confines. Her heart longed for the countryside and the open fields of the family estate. Often as a child, she would visit the coast with her governess and allow the ocean spray to hit her face. The wind would blow, freeing the locks of her hair and tickling her nose with salty air. Of course, that was before the sea took Captain Seth Rogers from her.

As a naval captain, she ought to have been prepared for his possible demise or injury. He had faced Napoleon’s navy before, however, and returned unscathed. Or so he said when she questioned him about it. Then he gave a hearty laugh and upon seeing his charming smile, Belinda pushed all negative thoughts from her mind. However, he did not die in battle. His ship and crew were lost during a perilous storm.

For a time after hearing the news, Belinda had fantasized that he had survived. She dreamed of waves carrying his body to a distant land. Upon washing up, he was taken in. Living in enemy territory would be dangerous, but her strong captain would find a way home. He would find a way back to her. As long as she could think that her heart continued to beat and drawing breath was not so painful.

Hope vanished some weeks later when news came that he had washed ashore. Dead.

There would be no returning. The life Belinda imagined disappeared as suddenly as the puff of clouds it had been built upon had emerged.

She had known Seth for only a few weeks the previous summer while he stayed with relations near her estate. Before he left to take command of a new ship, however, he proposed. Belinda rapidly said yes but her parents refused consent. He was a nobody to them. His family was nothing impressive, he advanced in the Navy only through middling connections. He had no fortune, nor would he inherit one. Lord and Lady Crenshaw were convinced he was a fortune hunter as Belinda was worth twenty thousand pounds from her grandfather.

However, he had never mentioned Belinda’s wealth. When they considered the future, it included her accompanying him—not his retirement from the Navy and living off her funds. Belinda had made up her mind. She waited only for her one and twentieth birthday to come so she might wed where she wished without parental interference.

Fate was a cruel mistress indeed. Her birthday was last week, and she now had complete control of her income. Only she had no grand visions for her future. In time she might hire a companion and take a small house in a different county. Returning to the Crenshaw estate would be inexplicably painful, and she would never like London. The worse difficulty laid in the fact that she could not mourn Seth’s death as they were not openly engaged. As it was, her parents insisted on hosting dinner party after dinner party to marry her off. Her mother, especially, took it as the highest insult to have a “spinster in the making” as a daughter. Her father bemoaned the family legacy as she was the sole child. If she did not marry and have children, it would go to a distant cousin and what duty did they have to the Crenshaw estate and coffers?

Her parents had a favourite. Lord Arlington, the Earl of Matlock’s eldest son. Belinda knew him perfectly well by reputation. She would rather die than marry him. There was nothing honourable about him. According to the gossip sheets, he sought his pleasures anywhere and everywhere. He dabbled in trade and factories for his income, was a liberal Whig and a rabble rouser in politics. In short, he was everything the perfect viscount should be. And she would never be the perfect viscountess. She was not formed for boring drawing room talk with ladies who came only to be jealous and spiteful. She hated London balls and soirees and would rather dance a lively reel any day. She was entirely unapologetic about it all.

The wind blew harder, and Belinda looked up to see darker clouds roll in. At least she thought they were clouds. In London, it was difficult to know. Still, she ought to return inside. Her mother planned another ridiculous dinner with Lady Matlock. After running Mr. Darcy off the other night, Belinda had not heard the end of it. She smiled to herself. Their conversation had been intriguing, and if Belinda had to guess, Mr. Darcy was quite in love with some unsuitable lady in Hertfordshire. She could only hope he would be brave enough to try for her.

A few steps from the door, the clouds opened. Large, heavy rain drops pummelled her face, forcing her to bend her head down. She opened the door and bolted inside then collided with a wall that had never been there before.