The Journey (2 page)

“Mr. Bingley is leaving Netherfield Park? For how long?”

“He did not say, my dear, but what is that to you? What is this down at the mouth expression I behold? Are you in love with the young man? I thought your sister was the one so affected.”

I blushed. “Of course not, but I should hate to see him leave just now. It will render Jane quite desolate.”

“Well, so it may, but they have enjoyed three months in each other’s company, as well as dancing together over and over at the ball he recently hosted, have they not? Surely, they can bear to be apart for a few weeks.”

“If it is only for a few weeks, sir, I agree, but if he is not to return, then what will become of Jane’s chances with Mr. Bingley?”

“Would you have me send Jane to London in your place then?”

“I would, Father.”

“That would defeat the purpose. I proposed this trip to remove you from your mother’s sight until she has made peace with your refusal of Mr. Collins. Surely, you can see the wisdom of my plan, can you not?”

I nodded but sighed. “Very well, Father. Of course, I will enjoy a trip to Town, but I dread making the journey in the presence of Mr. Bingley’s sisters. I am certain they regard me with little felicity and would much prefer Jane’s companionship.”

“It is not all that far to Town. Hopefully, they can bear your wretched company that long.” He patted my shoulder, and I kissed his cheek. It was my strong desire that his prediction proved correct and that the horses would run freely on the day of our trip.

As it came about, however, all was altered. At the last minute, Mr. Bingley changed his plans, deciding to remain at Netherfield for another week because of estate problems requiring his attention.

His sisters were distressed at delaying their journey because they had previously accepted invitations from friends in Town for two days hence. And so, it was settled that Mr. Hurst would remain at Netherfield with Mr. Bingley, preferring seven extra days of shooting to the parties awaiting him in London, and Mr. Darcy would accompany the ladies, since his sister awaited him in Town, and he did not want to disappoint her. Thus, this strange mixture of travellers now proceeded down the road.

I had felt a recurring sense of disquiet whenever I had been in Mr. Darcy’s presence, and I wondered if he shared such tension or simply enjoyed provoking it. I would have preferred Mr. Bingley’s company, for he was all ease and amiability, his face breaking into smiles when in conversation. I had yet to see a smile grace Mr. Darcy’s countenance. At times, I wondered if the man’s mouth was capable of turning in an upward direction.

It was not just his lack of good humour that caused my unease, however, but a feeling that, in his eyes, I was found lacking. He appeared to hold me in haughty contempt along with everyone else he had met during his brief stay in Hertfordshire. With every breath he took, he seemed to express disapproval of all he surveyed.

I wondered at the cause of his discontent. Was our local society that deficient? Mr. Bingley seemed to suffer no like disability, but rather joined in our assembly dances, teas, and suppers with great cordiality. His sisters, however, obviously did not share his opinion and held themselves apart, making the required conversations and responses when pressed upon in a manner that alerted all in their presence that they esteemed themselves far superior to others. Their feelings were plain.

Mr. Darcy, however, was enigmatic. He had flatly refused to dance with me at the assembly ball when we first met, and yet upon the very next occasion of our meeting, he had offered to dance with me when Sir William Lucas suggested it. I assumed that he was pressured to offer the invitation, and by that time, of course, I had resolved never to dance with him and thus refused.

Subsequently, Jane fell ill during a visit with Mr. Bingley’s sisters, and she was forced to stay abed at Netherfield for several days. When I received a note confirming her illness, I called on her, and Mr. Bingley prevailed upon me to remain and look after her. Naturally, I was thrown into encounters with Mr. Darcy during that visit, and he baffled me with his behaviour. At first, he was all concern and politeness, inquiring as to my sister’s health, and next, he was almost insulting in his obvious disapproval. When Jane recovered and we left there to return to Longbourn, I truly hoped never to be thrown into his presence again.

Shortly thereafter, the Netherfield ball was held. My four sisters and I, as well as Mamá, eagerly anticipated it, each for her own reasons. Mamá and I hoped it would further Jane and Mr. Bingley’s attachment, with my mother almost certain that a proposal would be forthcoming.

The militia was quartered in Meryton for the winter, and my younger sisters looked forward to dancing with the soldiers. In truth, I also anticipated dancing with one of the young officers, a Mr. Wickham, whom I had met recently. Tall and handsome, he was most pleasing in appearance and demeanour, and I thought I detected a preference toward me on his part. Unfortunately, he did not appear at the ball, and I suspected the reason why.

He had told me a shocking tale of how Mr. Darcy deprived him of his inheritance. Mr. Wickham was the son of old Mr. Darcy’s steward and a favourite of the master. He had educated Mr. Wickham and provided a living for him in his will, but after the elder Mr. Darcy’s death, his son flatly refused to honour his father’s wishes. I was shocked when I heard that revelation! Thus, one could not fault me for holding Mr. Darcy in poor regard.

When he singled me out to be his partner at the ball, I was so flustered that I could not think of a plausible excuse, and I was compelled to suffer his company through two dances that surely lasted twice as long as any other set that night. His behaviour throughout the exercise was clearly uncivil. He barely conversed with me until I shamed him into doing so. Oh, I hoped never to be in Mr. Darcy’s company again!

Unfortunately, there I was — forced to search about the enclosed carriage for any object upon which to look rather than his face.

After an hour on the road, I knew the interior of Mr. Bingley’s carriage in detail. If asked, I could even tell you how many brass nails outlined the crimson upholstery above the heads of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley.

Repeatedly, I watched as the black feathers protruding from her green turban bent to and fro, flicking against the roof of the carriage. If they had been a scant half-inch longer, she could not have worn that hat in the equipage, for she was a tall woman with a long neck, and carrying herself as she did with that certain air she prized so much, she appeared even taller. Why, when I thought of her, did the image of a well-dressed stork always appear?

“Tell me, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said, “was your cousin overwrought with disappointment at your refusal?”

I was dismayed that we had returned to a discussion of
that
subject. He looked at me without the slightest hint of a smile when he spoke, and I could not determine whether he actually wished to know the answer to his question or he was baiting me.

Before I could respond, Miss Bingley did so for me.

“Obviously, the poor man was not too distressed, for I hear that he has now attached himself to Sir William Lucas’s oldest daughter. Are they not to be married right away?”

I nodded, and Mrs. Hurst asked, “Where exactly does Mr. Collins live?”

“At Kent. He is vicar in Hunsford Village.”

“Does not your dear aunt reside near there, Mr. Darcy?” Caroline turned to him and, in doing so, took the opportunity to move even closer.

“She does.”

“Oh, how I would enjoy a visit with dear Lady Catherine! I have heard her speak of Rosings Park when visiting in Town, and from her description, it sounds like paradise.”

“The park is well maintained.”

“And shall you be visiting there any time soon, sir?”

“I generally go during the spring.”

Oh dear, I thought, I hoped he did not go at Easter, for I promised Charlotte I would visit her then.

“You and Miss Lucas are good friends, are you not, Miss Bennet?” Mrs. Hurst asked. When I confirmed that we were, she went on, “The two of you will regret your parting, I am sure.”

“We will.”

“It is but fifty miles to Kent,” Mr. Darcy said. “I would think you might visit with great convenience.”

“Fifty miles? That is some distance, sir.”

“What is fifty miles of good road? An easy journey when a good friend awaits you.”

“Perhaps for you, but I am not at liberty to travel as freely, although I do plan to visit Charlotte when Sir William and her sister attend upon her.”

“Indeed?” A sudden light seemed to appear in his eyes, or perhaps it was but a reflection from the window. “And when might you go?”

“At Easter.”

“Ah, a beautiful time to visit Kent. Perchance we shall see each other, as that is the time my visit is also planned.”

Miss Bingley began to flutter. “It always rains at Easter. I would not think you would care to travel then, Mr. Darcy. I had hoped we all might remain at Pemberley until after that time. I know that Charles is pleased that you have invited us to spend the winter months in Derbyshire.”

He looked out the window, a bored expression descending upon his face. “My plans are not yet fixed. I prefer to wait and see how things develop.”

With his last words, he turned and looked directly into my eyes. Once again, I was perturbed, wondering what lay behind this strange man’s unreadable demeanour.

“Miss Bennet, your family has made friends with many of the officers quartered at Meryton, have they not?” Mrs. Hurst asked, quite decidedly changing the subject. She seemed particularly cognizant of her sister’s wishes in that regard.

“My father has made Colonel Forster’s acquaintance, and he and some of the officers have been good enough to call upon us.”

Miss Bingley arched one eyebrow and literally looked down her nose at me. “Your younger sisters seem quite fond of the soldiers. And do you not favour one of them yourself?”

“I . . . I do not know of whom you speak. As I said, several of the officers are friends of my parents.”

“But is not Mr. Wickham a particular favourite of yours?”

Mr. Darcy made a sudden movement, sitting up straighter and returning his face to the window. No one could mistake his discomfort with the subject.

“My family considers Mr. Wickham a very congenial and pleasing acquaintance, even though I understand that certain other people do not,” I said.

Miss Bingley turned to Mr. Darcy and placed her hand upon his arm, causing him to face her. “I did endeavour most heartily to warn Miss Bennet of Mr. Wickham’s unsuitability, but she would not have it.”

I bit my tongue to keep a civil tone. “If I did not accept your warning, Miss Bingley, it is because I heard you accuse Mr. Wickham of nothing worse than being the son of Mr. Darcy’s steward, and as I told you previously, he informed me himself of that fact. I have found the gentleman to be in good humour and agreeable in spite of suffering grievous misfortunes at the hands of one he considered a friend.”

“You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns,” said Mr. Darcy in a more animated tone and with heightened colour.

“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?”

“His misfortunes! Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.” He made not the slightest effort to conceal his contempt.

“And of your infliction,” I cried, suddenly unable to control myself. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both inhaled audibly, a hissing sound reverberating around the carriage.

Mr. Darcy’s face darkened as his frown deepened. “And this is your opinion of me? This is the estimation . . .”

Suddenly, the carriage lurched and swayed, and our argument was halted by the violent sounds of men’s voices yelling from without, followed by a gunshot! Miss Bingley screamed and grabbed Mr. Darcy’s arm. Mrs. Hurst grabbed her bosom.

Someone yanked open the door to the carriage, and both ladies began to scream in earnest at the sight of a masked man brandishing a pistol in their faces. Mr. Darcy immediately tried to move between them and the highwayman, but another man stuck the barrel of a gun in his back from the window on our side.

“Get out!” the first man yelled. “Now! Out here, all of you.”

Miss Bingley began to whimper as she and her sister climbed out of the carriage, clinging to each other. I followed them down the steps with Mr. Darcy behind me. Besides the two men on the ground, two more masked men remained on horseback, waving their guns around as well.

“Hands up! Stand and deliver!”

The order came from one of the men on horseback. Clad in black, even down to the mask on his face, he appeared to be the leader. Both footmen had descended from the rear of the carriage, and at the highwayman’s demand, the driver threw down our luggage from the top.

Caroline squealed, “Those are my clothes! Remove your hands from them at once!”

One of the masked men only laughed as he began to rummage through her valise, throwing gowns and undergarments here and there.

“There’s not much here,” he said, after doing the same to the other suitcases. “Only a bit of trinkets.”

“Off with your jewels!” the leader shouted. “Drop them in the bag.”