Darcy's Journey (25 page)

54

Tuesday 4
^th
July
5pm

Elizabeth dozed as their hired carriage
passed through the Kentish countryside towards Rodmersham, home of Corporal and
Mrs Dunne. The crossing from Ostend to Ramsgate had taken 24 hours, during
which she had suffered continuously from seasickness and not slept at all.
Opposite, Martha Briggs and Rosie also looked pale, and Colonel Fitzwilliam
weary, although he had not been sick. Only Darcy and Burgess seemed unaffected—and
also, thankfully, the baby.

They had set off on Friday morning after
an emotional parting from the de Crécys. The dramatic aftermath of the battle
had forged a bond strong as a family tie, especially with Lorraine, whom she
now counted as one of her closest friends. She thought often of the tall,
graceful, plain young woman, not gifted like Alice Dill or Hilda Edelmann, but kind
and courageous—and such fun when she let her hair down in private.
Lorraine had agreed to write, and also to visit, once teasing Elizabeth that they
might meet up in Derbyshire …

There had been no more discussion of marriage.
So far as the Viscount and Colonel Fitzwilliam were concerned, she and Darcy
were presumed betrothed. Between themselves, matters had not advanced since
their conversation in the Tyrol: it was acknowledged that they were in love,
but they would display
discretion
and
sobriety
, as demanded by
the Book of Common Prayer, and reconsider their future after the journey. Well,
they should talk it over before reaching London—if they could only find a
calm moment of privacy.

At Rodmersham they stopped at St
Nicholas Church, and Elizabeth accompanied Darcy to enquire at the Vicarage.
The housekeeper perked up as soon as they mentioned the Dunnes. Of course, at
Baker Cottage. Near the green. Yes, there was a son, Harold, in the army. Married
to Kitty Farr last year. No children, one on the way. Why …

Darcy replied noncommittally that he needed
to speak with the parents on a private matter.

At Baker cottage they found Mrs Dunne
and confided the sad news. The corporal’s mother was a sturdy down-to-earth
woman, and her initial reaction was stoical: having received no letter since
before the battle, she already feared the worst. But her restraint dissolved in
tears when Elizabeth brought forward the child, and placed it in her arms.
Darcy stayed to talk with her, satisfying himself that she was the person best
placed to take over responsibility.

As they left, a storm broke; luckily
there was an inn yards away across the village green with a comfy interior, and
aromas of mutton pie from the kitchen. As they ate, Darcy leaned over and
whispered: ‘Elizabeth, we will not reach London tonight in such weather.’

‘Perhaps it will clear.’

‘I see no sign of it. We are also tired
after the crossing. I know you have misgivings, but I think it best that we
stay overnight at Rosings.’

She stared at him. Darcy had informed
Lady Catherine by letter that he and Colonel Fitzwilliam were well, and on
their way back to England; he had omitted any reference to Elizabeth.

‘
Misgivings
hardly covers it. We
both know how your aunt would react if she knew what had passed between us
these last months. I cannot ask hospitality of her.’

‘You can stay with the Collinses.’

‘And when her ladyship finds out? Her
wrath will descend on poor Charlotte like the seven last plagues.’

Darcy sighed. ‘I’m afraid my aunt’s ire
must be faced by all of us, sooner or later.’ He touched her arm. ‘Come, after
all we have endured, we can survive the rants of Lady Catherine.’

They reached Rosings two hours
after sundown. The rain had abated, but with the sky still overcast there was
no moonlight. Reluctantly Elizabeth accepted that Darcy was right: navigating
the lane to Hunsford was hard enough, let alone the road to London.

At last she recognised the laurel hedge
and the familiar garden sloping up to the parsonage, where candlelight still
glowed in a front room. A maid-of-all-work stood in the doorway, peering
anxiously through the gloom; on recognising Elizabeth she gasped, and
disappeared within to summon Mrs Collins.

‘Lizzy, what a surprise!’ Charlotte
pointed to the upper floor, continuing in a whisper. ‘Mr Collins is abed; he rises
early, you know.’ She saw Darcy coming up the path, and bowed. ‘Good evening, sir.’

‘Good evening, Mrs Collins, and forgive
our sudden intrusion.’ Darcy also kept his voice low. ‘It is a lot to ask, but
can you offer Miss Bennet a bed for the night? I will proceed with Colonel
Fitzwilliam to Rosings.’

Charlotte looked back and forth from
Darcy to Elizabeth, in great confusion. ‘You are always welcome here, Lizzy.
But how …’

Darcy smiled. ‘Have no fear, Mrs
Collins: Lady Catherine will approve. I shall see to that.’ He turned to Elizabeth.
‘I will call late tomorrow morning. We all need to catch up on sleep.’

The carriage left, and Elizabeth
followed Charlotte to the parlour while the maid prepared refreshment.

‘Lizzy, what can this mean? There are
rumours you have been seen
at a ball in Brussels
with Mr Darcy and the
colonel. Lady Catherine was
beside herself
and demanded that I should
explain! I had only your letter …’

‘From Verona?’

‘Exactly! You said you had joined a
party returning to England, attended concerts, toured Roman ruins. Was Mr Darcy
in the party?’

‘It’s a long story.’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘Dear
Charlotte, it is wrong for me to remain here tonight …’

Charlotte shook her head firmly. ‘Why? Mr
Darcy has assured me that her ladyship will raise no objection. Anyway, where
else can you go?’

‘Should we inform Mr Collins?’

‘Wake him now? Certainly not.’ Charlotte
kneeled at her side. ‘Lizzy, you are exhausted. Ellen is preparing hot toddies
with brandy and honey. The chamber you used before is made up; she will bring
your drink there. We can talk in the morning.’

55

Breakfast at Rosings was an
ample meal served at nine thirty. The table was laid with boiled eggs, kept
warm by woollen caps, dishes of bacon and cold meats, smoked haddock, rolls and
other breads, preserves, tea, coffee and hot chocolate. It was Lady Catherine’s
habit to enter at
exactly
the time ordained—and Darcy’s to arrive
earlier, so that he could pass an agreeable ten minutes in conversation with
Anne or Colonel Fitzwilliam, without constant interruption from her ladyship.

Anne de Bourgh was in her late twenties,
just a year younger than Darcy. She looked as she usually did: pale, thin, a
little puffy. With every passing year, a look of defeat etched deeper in her
once pretty features. He felt a certain guilt: perhaps he should have forced
the issue of their so-called
betrothal
into the open long ago, leaving Lady
Catherine no alternative but to seek another suitor. He had hoped that this
would be achieved by his own marriage. Unfortunately the years had slipped by
in fruitless search, and when he had at last fallen in love, he had been
rejected …

Anne’s best chance, he believed, was
that fate would separate her from her mother. He asked what she was reading,
when she had last been in town, whether she had made new friends. Every
question was met with the briefest possible answer. He kept trying, but it was
almost a relief when Lady Catherine swept in.

‘The wanderers have returned.’ She sat
at the end of the table, opposite Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Johnson, where are the
brown rolls? I asked particularly that we should have a choice of white or
brown. Have the eggs been boiled four minutes?’

The servant bowed. ‘Yes ma’am.’

‘We shall see. It is of the utmost
importance that the timing be precise. Well Darcy! I have been hearing most
disturbing reports.’

Darcy raised his eyebrows. ‘Good
morning, aunt. You refer no doubt to the injuries my cousin sustained in the
battle. He is too modest to say so, but you should know that his regiment
performed magnificently against Bonaparte’s elite troops.’

Colonel Fitzwilliam waved this away.
‘Let us not alarm the ladies, Darce.’ He turned to Anne. ‘My wounds were minor,
and I am now fully recovered.’

‘I am gratified to hear it.’ Lady
Catherine cried. ‘But I was speaking of quite another matter. I suppose you realise,
Darcy, that your indiscretions are openly discussed in the
ton
. I heard
from Lady Frances Webster, who is such a gossip that by now everyone will know.
I tried my best to limit the damage, but …’ She threw up her hands. ‘There is
only one remedy. We must announce your engagement to Anne in
The Times
immediately.’

Darcy broke the top of an egg, taking
his time so as to conceal his irritation. ‘I have not the pleasure of understanding
you. We met Lady Webster at a ball in Brussels, and enjoyed a pleasant
conversation. I have known her husband since our schooldays.’

‘I refer, as you well know, to Mr
Collins’s cousin, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to whom I showed such gracious condescension
during her visit last year, considering that she is a young lady of no
consequence. Imagine my shock on learning that you had not only accompanied Miss
Bennet to a ball, but danced with her
twice!
To pay
such
attentions, to
such
a woman, when betrothed to another!’ She shivered,
as if insects were crawling over her skin. ‘I told Lady Webster that she must
be mistaken. But no, she was quite sure; she regarded me with that supercilious
smile of hers, revelling in her superior information. For shame, sir! That I
should have to
humiliate
myself before that
frightful
woman, that
shameless wanton
, to undo the harm you have done, and preserve the good
name of the family.’

Darcy sipped coffee, allowing this
intemperate outburst to hang in the air, its absurdity, he hoped, manifest. ‘You
will excuse me if my sympathy is muted, aunt. It is embarrassing, I know, when
an acquaintance is better informed on family affairs than you are. However, a
little embarrassment is easily borne.’ He turned to indicate Colonel
Fitzwilliam. ‘Your nephew fought bravely at Waterloo and survived only by luck.
Miss Bennet, whom you hold in such low esteem, worked for over a week tending
to wounded officers and men. She is a remarkable and lovely woman, and her
husband, when she marries, will be fortunate indeed. As to whether I shall be
that man …’ He sighed. ‘I cannot say. When I know, you will be told.’

Lady Catherine stared at him, her mouth
wide open as if frozen in the act of speaking. Eventually she spluttered, ‘Miss
Bennet … worked … as a
nurse?’

‘Yes.’

‘Were there no
servants
in
Brussels?’

Colonel Fitzwilliam coughed. ‘You should
understand, aunt, that after a major battle thousands of men need urgent
treatment. Hospitals are overwhelmed. Local servants, if available at all, speak
no English. Miss Bennet, like Darce, threw herself into the breach, earning our
admiration as well as our gratitude.’

Lady Catherine shook her head,
momentarily speechless. ‘I never heard anything more disgraceful.’

There was a frosty silence. Darcy
observed Anne, following intently and obviously shocked. Perhaps they had been
too explicit in describing the horrors of war—or perhaps a dose of
reality would help Anne grow up: who could tell?

Lady Catherine slapped the table. ‘Where
is Miss Bennet now? Has she returned to Hertfordshire?’

‘She spent the night at Hunsford.’

‘Indeed!’ Lady Catherine summoned a
servant. ‘Tell Mr and Mrs Collins that they are to come here immediately. You
hear?
Immediately
. Not Miss Bennet. She is to remain behind. I will
not
have her at Rosings.’

Darcy made no protest. He had finally
made his feelings plain to Anne. Lady Catherine had never listened to reason in
her life, and would scarcely begin now. If the Collinses came to Rosings, an
opportunity presented itself. It was time to talk with Elizabeth in private.

56

He walked the half-mile to
Hunsford in the morning sunshine. The park railings, laurel hedge, gate,
door-bell, all reminded him of a similar mission 15 months before. A maid, the
same one, answered the door. Of course, Elizabeth might not be in. She would be
tempted to take advantage of the weather and roam the park. But no: he was led
to the same room, and announced.

Elizabeth was seated at a window, writing
in her journal. She rose as he entered, and they waited in silence as the
maid’s footsteps receded.

She smiled, breaking the spell.
‘Disturbing, is it not?’

‘The stage is unchanged; the players, I
hope, have advanced in understanding.’

‘Did you pass Mr and Mrs Collins on your
way here?’

‘I left just as they were arriving.’

‘Mr Collins is in such a flap! I fear
they are about to suffer the sharp edge of her ladyship’s tongue—and on
my account.’

‘I’m sorry, Elizabeth. This is my
fault.’

‘Did you speak with your aunt?’

He nodded. ‘News of the ball has reached
London, and her reaction, as you may imagine, was abusive. I concealed nothing.
She knows we have been travelling together. She knows my feelings in your
regard; and so does Miss de Bourgh.’

She eyed him impishly. ‘Are you going to
tell me too?’

He looked doubtfully around the room.
‘We must talk. But not here.’

‘How about the park?’

After strolling through a copse,
talking inconsequentially, they reached a clearing where a bench, partially
shaded, overlooked a pond. Elizabeth closed her parasol, and they sat side by
side.

‘We must leave today for London,’ Darcy
said. ‘All of us, Colonel Fitzwilliam too. Despite his protestations, he needs
to convalesce in a peaceful well-ordered household, and he will not find that
here with my aunt in a frenzy.’

‘And once we reach London? I assume I
will stay with my Uncle and Aunt Gardiner, and leave for Longbourn the next
day.’

‘I was hoping you would come first to
Darcy House, so that I could introduce you to my sister.’

‘I am eager to meet her.’

‘She will be curious as to the, ah,
relationship between us.’ He smiled. ‘I must admit to an interest in that very
point myself.’

‘Aha!’ She dealt him a sly grin. ‘You
are about to reveal those
feelings
that you have already admitted to
Lady Catherine.’

‘My feelings are as they were last year,
except that now they are based on secure knowledge rather than early impressions.’

‘You have found out how scatter-brained
I am?’

He smiled. ‘Perhaps, but also that you
are courageous, conscientious, compassionate, and remarkably well-read. My only
doubt is whether I am worthy of you.’

She gave a little shiver, her eyes
filling, and reached for his hand.

‘Have no worries on that score, my
dearest. We are going to marry. Is it not plain to you?’

Relief spread through him. He breathed
deeply, before replying: ‘You seemed quiet these last days, even downcast. Perhaps
it was the rigours of the journey.’

She shook her head. ‘It has been a
reaction, I believe, to the period we passed in Brussels after the battle. I
have never experienced such excitement and comradeship before. I cannot say how
much it meant to me. For the first time in my life I contributed to something
worthwhile. I longed to return home, but still it was a wrench to leave
Lorraine and the others.’

He nodded, understanding what she meant.
‘You have not been in anxiety over—our future.’

‘Not at all. Before, while we sailed
down the Rhine, I had doubts. In Brussels I was too immersed in nursing to have
any thoughts about myself. And when it was over, I knew, without further
reflection, that our destiny was decided. Perhaps it is perverse, but I feel in
spirit we are
already
married. The ceremony will merely confirm it.’

‘Because we pretended to be man and wife
in Italy?’

She laughed. ‘No. Because of what
happened later. I was so proud of what you had achieved at the camp, and longed
to help, like you and Lorraine. To my surprise and
 
relief I found that I really
could
do it. I could face terrible wounds, disgusting chores, life-and-death
decisions, and care for those poor men. And I was proud that we were both
overjoyed
to find Mr Wickham alive; and that without a second thought you secured him the
best treatment. I recalled with shame my panic on the boat when you told me of Mr
Wickham’s designs on your sister. How
inconvenient
for me that such a scoundrel
should prevent me from marrying the man I loved! But the truth is …’ She faced
him, taking a breath. ‘The truth is that the world was not created for our
convenience. We fear Georgiana’s distress that my sister is now Mrs Wickham,
but as you pointed out, is it so awful that she should be upset for a while? Must
everything be perfect? I am flawed, so are you, so will our marriage be. No
matter. We both know we belong together, and that is that.’

They were silent a long time, until
Darcy said, with a smile, ‘So imperfection is the human condition.’

She laughed. ‘It took me a long time to
say that.’

‘Yet some
moments
are perfect,
and this is one of them.’ He raised her hand to his lips.

She faced him, radiating confidence, delight,
certainty. ‘You could kiss me even better if we stood up.’

They rose, and observing the protruding
edges of her bonnet, he began slowly to unlace it.

‘You seem in no hurry, sir,’ she
complained.

‘I am savouring the moment.’

She coloured, her whole body trembling
in anticipation as his arms went around her.