The Heir and Spare (Jane Austen Adaptations)

9. Elizabeth

Chapter 9

Elizabeth

E lizabeth showed Mary her letter. “There are bits in here for you as well, plus I haven’t yet read our second letter.” She pointed to the other side of the garden. “Shall we?”

Mary glanced at Lord Perceval for the briefest moment, but he was not paying attention, distracted by something Mr. Darcy was saying or doing, and so she nodded. “Yes, let’s.”

Elizabeth led them both toward two sets of benches up against a hedgerow. They sat on the first, the stone warm through their dresses, the sun soft and gentle, the breeze light and filled with the scents of roses and soft earth. Now and again, hints of mist from the fountain drifted over on the wind.

She risked a smile at Mr. Darcy. He was watching her, only half an ear to the lord at his side.

What had just almost happened? Heat filled her chest, her heart rate leaping all over the place. She needed to fan her face. Would he have kissed her? She swallowed. Would she have let him? Such scandal to be crossing her mind. But even more scandalous, Elizabeth wanted him to try again. And she thought she would let him. How could she think such things? And if she were to go around kissing men, that didn’t mean she was courting them or they her; didn’t mean she was meant to marry them. She sucked in her breath. Was Mr. Darcy thinking of marrying her? Courting her?

He did not seem the type to pass out kisses to just anyone, and he certainly didn’t seem the type to toy with a woman’s emotions. He might be very seriously considering courting her. She tried to breathe normally through a still pounding heart and with shaking hands. Hopefully to Mr. Darcy and anyone else glancing her way, she was calmly listening to the fountain even though her insides raged in a torrent like she’d never felt before.

It was certainly not like him to toy with a woman, was it?

She tried to swallow back the lump in her throat and calm the rapidity of her breathing. Remembering her other letter, she broke the seal. Anything to distract her at this moment would be a saving grace.

She fanned her face a moment and then lowered her gaze to the latest news from home.

My dear Lizzie,

I have news of the most distressing nature though I can hardly believe it myself. I am left without knowing how to move on, my dear sister, so surprised and in an upheaval. Mama hardly knows how to leave her bed, her smelling salts not aiding in their typical restorations. Father has confined himself to the study and Lydia is heaven only knows where, for she is not at home and no one seems to be aware of her any longer.

Elizabeth clutched the papers, her eyes reading as quickly as she could, though trying not to miss a single word so as not to misunderstand.

Mr. Bingley has left the area with not a word to me. I received the smallest note from his sister, directing me that he would soon be joining her and Mr. Darcy’s sister whom she most dearly hopes to call sister herself soon. Oh Lizzie, I can scarce write the words. Please. What shall I do? Advise me quickly, for I’m most desperately despondent like I’ve never felt. He did love me, did he not? Can I be so na?ve as to have imagined his affections? Was I so wrong in his character? Could he be capable of such a deception? I need your voice or at least your words to guide me. Write swiftly.

And then included with that letter was another sheet, tucked behind. It fell out and Lizzie opened it.

And now I must tell you news that you shall not believe but I assure you I am in earnest. Lydia has run off, we believe, with an officer, one who appeared to be most charming to all but is in fact a man of great debt and poor reputation. There is no hope for any of us or wherewithal to find her. Uncle is aiding us as they are believed to be in London. But now I must beg you to come at your earliest convenience. Nothing can come of the house party at any rate. The minute someone learns of her indiscretion we are all ruined. Mary must be told gently. I’m afraid she will be most disappointed in her sister. And about Bingley, I’m afraid to say, I’m as sad as ever but the situation with Lydia has made any hope for Bingley impossible even though he was influenced by his friend, Mr. Darcy. I had hoped that perhaps he could be convinced, that he would remember and return. The opinion of one friend cannot have such a strong effect. But now it does not matter. Were he to come to his senses, we could not be together, for no man should have to bear the shame of our family’s guilt.

Yours etc.

Lizzie hardly knew what to think. She clutched her breast, the letters crumbled in her other hand.

“Lizzie. What is it?” Mary’s voice at her side sounded miles away. She clutched her arm and with a little shake said again, “Lizzie.”

At length she turned to Mary. “It is news of the worst kind. But come. We must keep it hidden as long as possible.”

The horror of Lydia’s situation descended on her like a weight. But the words “influenced by Mr. Darcy” crashed around in her brain, wreaking havoc on her ability to reason or even respond to Mary.

She sought him out. He was standing with Lord Perceval in deep conversation. They both glanced in her direction enough that she suspected the topic of their conversation. And then she became suspicious of all his interactions regarding them. Why had he been the one to gallantly offer himself as chaperone? Why was he taking such an active interest? If he’d ruined Jane’s relationship with Bingley, was he trying to do the same here with Mary? Her heart chilled and all warmth for him turned to a great well of hurt and anger. How could he do such a thing? Why meddle? And why toy with her heart? Surely a man that would try to ruin the happiness of not one but two beloved sisters did not actually hope to court and please her? She shook her head.

Mr. Darcy lifted his eyebrows in question and Lizzie realized he must think she was trying to communicate. She looked away, barely able to contain herself.

He dipped his head to Lord Perceval and began his approach.

“No, no no no no.” Lizzie grabbed Mary’s arm. “We must leave. Now.”

Mary stepped forward, jerked up by Lizzie’s hand. But before they could step away from the bench, Mr. Darcy was standing in front of them. “Are you well?” His eyes were tender, his voice gentle and for a moment, Lizzie glanced at his lips. He seemed so sincere, so caring. What a creton. How could he be so clever in his disguise? So gifted in his duplicity?

She shook her head, lifting her chin defiantly. “We are not well. We’ve received most distressing news and will be leaving the party directly.” She looked away.

“Oh dear. This news. It is most distressing for me, certainly if you plan to leave. What can I do? Shall I call for the carriage?” He turned as though he would do just such a thing but Lizzie shook her head and called out. “You shall not.”

“Pardon me.” He tipped his head to the side.

“You have done more than enough already.” She could barely be civil, her words coming out as near whispers. All the emotion suddenly caught in her throat and the sharpness of knives dug into the large lump that formed. “We shall be far better off alone.” She reached for Mary but the girl did not know how to make a quick exit and seemed frozen in confusion at Elizabeth’s rapid change of loyalty. Lizzie couldn’t blame her, but now was the time for haste.

Mr. Darcy seemed oblivious to the severity of her distress or her disinclination to allow him to be involved at all. “Come, Miss Elizabeth. Allow me to be of assistance. If I might even know the nature of your distress, I could perhaps come to your aid?”

Lizzie stood taller, words forming and exiting her mouth without thought. “You who have been the means of destroying Jane’s happiness? You? No. I don’t need anything from you. Though it shall all come out at some point. I might as well say it here, so as to avoid further spread of falsehood. The facts as we know them are thus. My sister Lydia has run off with a soldier who was stationed in Meryton.”

Mary gasped and clutched Lizzie’s arm. She immediately regretted the callous nature in which she was blurting out the news, but she trudged on.

“She is as silly as any, I admit, but this is very unlike her. We fear the worst. She can have nothing to offer him and no enticements for them to actually marry.” There, she’d said it. Her chest heaved in her breaths as though each one painful. “And so I must return home to support Jane who is also suffering from her own broken heart.”

“What? Oh dear!” Mary’s eyes were full of sadness, and Lizzie could only nod.

But Mr. Darcy seemed confused and deeply troubled. “I am most distressed on your behalf and on the loss of your company. I will do what I can.” He waved a hand. “Please summon a carriage and alert Lord Shackley of their immediate need to depart.” He started to pace. “Distressing news indeed. What is to be done?” He paused. “Has anyone gone after them?”

“Yes of course. And I don’t have further news.” She pulled Mary firmly with her and headed for the house. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Mr. Darcy bowed. “Of course.”

Lizzie paused, watching his face before turning from him, half hoping despite her hurt at his actions that he might give some semblance of hope, some inkling that all was not lost for her family. But those were all the words he had left for her. His own silence, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his inability to look her in the face, was enough to tell Elizabeth all she needed about her potential reception in any polite homes or with any well-to-do families. Her family’s fate was secure. They’d all best be looking carefully and quickly for employment. Even a governess position would be a stretch if news of their defamation were to reach many ears. She didn’t look back even though she knew it was the last she was ever going to see of Mr. Darcy. He was probably counting himself and his friend lucky that he’d separated Jane from Bingley. Tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t raise a hand to wipe them. Mary said nothing as they hurried as quickly as they could out of the gardens and out of sight of Mr. Darcy.