CHAPTER 10 - FALLOUT
Despite Mrs. Wortley's advice to be patient, Elizabeth packed the next day. It did not take long, but she wished to be ready to go as soon as the message came, to resolve any outstanding legal matters as quickly as possible, then run as far away as possible, as far from him as possible. She would find some other way to keep in contact with Jane.
She waited all day, then all evening, but no message came and neither did he. She asked Mrs. Wortley and James if they had heard anything, but they shook their heads.
"Give him time, my dear. He will calm down," Mrs. Wortley said. "If you truly did nothing wrong, he will see reason and come again. He was terribly in love with you. Those men are the most difficult. It is better once their feelings have faded a bit."
She told herself she hoped Mrs. Wortley was wrong. She did not wish to see him! But she still found herself watching the break in the trees where the gravel road was, and listening for a curricle or a rider on horseback. Neither came to the farmhouse the second day either.
On the third day, she sent James with a message for Mr. Offerton, her attorney in Town, asking if he had heard anything from Darcy's attorney. She did not want to go herself in case Darcy came while she was gone. The answer came back in the negative, although he wrote that he would make inquiries.
It was on the fourth day that a rider came, but it was not Darcy. The messenger had a packet containing letters for each of the servants.
"Is there anything for me?" Elizabeth asked him.
"No, ma'am. Just what I gave."
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, and returned to the house to wait. She knew Mrs. Wortley would tell her what she could.
The housekeeper came to her a few moments later. Mr. Darcy was travelling to Pemberley with family and would likely be gone for the summer, she said. Otherwise, things were to continue as they are.
"He engaged us for the next quarter, so it appears as if all will be well for another three months at least. He asked us to confirm that you had not received any visitors or made any visits. I will assure him that you have seen nobody and your conduct has been exemplary."
There was one change in the arrangement, she explained.
"We are not to let you wander off alone. One of us must accompany you at all times. Otherwise, you may do as you please. It is for safety, he said."
Although they both knew that was not true, Elizabeth only nodded and Mrs. Wortley looked relieved. So she would be watched, Elizabeth thought resignedly. But, unlike Jane, she was still free, comparatively speaking. She had no wish for secret trysts with other men so the fact that somebody would accompany her wherever she went made little difference to her. It only meant her servants would have to take a lot more walks than they might otherwise be inclined to take.
Walking alone in the fields early the next morning - James, her designated chaperone, elected to fulfil his duties from the parked carriage, where Elizabeth suspected he was napping rather than watching her - Elizabeth knew she ought to be relieved.
Mr. Offerton had followed up his first message to confirm that Darcy's attorney had no new instructions and would maintain all accounts and allowance payments. He also assured her that three thousand pounds, her payment for the first six months, sat in trust and would be hers automatically upon the expiry of the term, barring any legal challenge from Darcy. And Mrs. Wortley's information suggested that she would have a place to live almost to the end of that time.
Yet she felt heavy-hearted at the thought of the summer ahead. Mrs. Wortley and Dorothy, good-natured as they were, shared few of her interests outside of the purely domestic sphere. Beyond rejoicing with Mrs. Wortley that the carrots were ready and revelling in Dorothy's new method of removing grass stains, there was not a great deal to talk about. Idly she wondered if she could persuade James to learn how to play chess.
Darcy had promised to teach her how to fish, she remembered. They had made a scheme to take a punt out on the Thames, starting upstream where it was narrow and meeting his footmen in Chelsea. They had even talked about staying out overnight, at one of the small inns in the quiet towns that lined the route.
In the hot summer days at the farmhouse, she thought of how pleasant it would have been to be on the river, perhaps dabbling her hands or feet in the cool water, or reading aloud to Darcy while he punted. A few times she walked the two miles to the Thames and sat on the shore on a picnic blanket with Dorothy or Mrs. Wortley or even alone, with James nearby, watching the boaters and fishermen wistfully.
She had finished reading the rest of Darcy's books. She wondered what he would have said about them and amused herself by making up opinions for him inside her head, then demolishing his arguments with well-reasoned rhetoric. She applied some of his frequent critiques against her own arguments and found she was forced to shore them up or abandon them altogether as flawed and weak.
She went to Town occasionally, but there was little draw. Jane had been removed for the summer to Sir Henry's country home, or to those of his relations, who had been seen calling at their townhouse.
Susan, the flower seller, told her that the talk on the street was that the hope of an heir had acted as an olive branch between Sir Henry and his wealthy relations, from whom he had become estranged following his marriage. It appeared that if only Jane could succeed in bringing a son to term this time, her troubles might be at an end and she would be taken into the bosom of Sir Henry's family. The news, while reassuring, also made Elizabeth feel more lonely than ever.
Her lifeline to the greater world was now the newspapers, which James still picked up and delivered faithfully. Sometimes they offered clues of Darcy's whereabouts. The activities of the Earl Fitzwilliam's family were frequently reported, and Elizabeth wondered if Darcy was present when his cousin, Viscount Milton, opened a horse race in Derby with the announcement of a generous purse, or when Lady Fitzwilliam held a benefit concert at Milton House, the family's seat in Northamptonshire.
She was able to definitively pinpoint his location only once, when he was listed among the distinguished gentry and other members of the Whig aristocracy who had gathered at Wentworth House, Lord Fitzwilliam's vast seat in Yorkshire. She wondered what he thought of the society belles in his midst and whether any were particularly handsome or charming.
Elizabeth reflected on what appeared to be marked differences in the freedoms that aristocratic women enjoyed compared with those of her own rank in life. She had seen with interest the amours of Lady Caroline Lamb, Lady Fitzwilliam's niece, which continued to fill the gossip columns through that summer. The lady's indiscretions with Lord Byron, the celebrated young poet, had been the subject of much joyfully malicious speculation at Lord Blake's party, but Colonel Fitzwilliam had defended his cousin.
"Caro has been a terror since she was a child. It is no surprise she would disgrace herself; it is only too bad she cannot be more discreet about it," he said. He pointed out that Lady Caroline's husband, William Lamb, heir apparent to Viscount Melbourne, was no saint himself. Nor, for that matter, was any of his family - only the first of Lord Melbourne's six children was believed to be his, and Peniston Lamb had passed away from tuberculosis in the year five.
Darcy had been less impressed, Elizabeth remembered. They had discussed it when the scandal had first filtered into the newspapers at least a month earlier. They had even argued about it a little, Elizabeth playfully since she had no stake in the outcome. She had teased him for being partial; he was good friends with the youngest of the Lamb brothers from his Eton and Cambridge days. She also mocked him gently for his hypocrisy: "If Mr. Lamb will not behave himself, why should his wife feel obliged to do so?" she had asked. His response had been unsmiling and unequivocal: "There is nothing more reprehensible than an unfaithful woman."
In retrospect, she wondered if she should have predicted his exaggerated reaction to Lord Blake's attentions. From the first he had laid stress on her fidelity, just as Sir Henry had with Jane - unnecessarily, she had thought, since the contrary had never occurred to her any more than it would to Jane. But unlike Sir Henry, it appeared Darcy was prepared to adhere to the same rule himself. Had not Lord Blake said that he had not dallied with a woman since becoming his own master?
And, he had not hit her. She could still conjure up his livid features, his clenched jaw and fists. But he had not actually attempted to strike her. She had wanted him to strike her; she had tried to goad him into doing it. For far, far less, Mr. Sandys would have whipped her with a relish bordering on the obscene. She could not imagine what Sir Henry would have done to Jane.
"Maybe he is different," she said aloud.
She clasped her knees to herself on the picnic blanket and rested her chin on her knees as she watched a man try to land a fish while standing up in a punt on the Thames. She had been angry at Darcy at first, but now she missed him. It seemed like a long time since his cruel words, dredged up in memory, had the power to inflame her indignation. What had he really said of her that she had not deserved? Had she not thrown away her respectability with both hands?
If she had to do that night over again, she would not have said what she did to him. She would have tried harder to calm him down, recognizing that he was not in full command of himself. She hoped he returned soon.
One evening, while curled up on the garden bench behind the house with a book - a new one, which she had purchased at a shop in Town - she heard the crackle of wheels on gravel.
It was about four weeks after Darcy had first left and Elizabeth had given up much hope of seeing him before September, if ever again. But the sound was unmistakably of a light pleasure vehicle like a curricle. Who else could it be?
Still, she stayed where she was, unwilling to commit to any feelings of happiness at his return until it was assured. Then she heard the vehicle draw to a stop in the clearing and the voices of two men, crisp and clear in the evening quiet. It was Darcy and his footman.
She closed her book and ran around the side of the house. She heard Darcy inquire of Mrs. Wortley if "Miss Bennet" was in and Mrs. Wortley's reply that she was in the garden and then - she was facing him.
He was more handsome than ever, if a little haggard around the eyes, standing there clutching a large bouquet of roses. Dressed in the lighter colours of the country, he looked more approachable than she had seen him. His hair was a little shorter and his face was tanned, making his eyes appear lighter than usual.
"Elizabeth?" he said tentatively, taking a step toward her.
She had almost run to him, but at his sombre mien, her heart sank and she reminded herself that he had voluntarily stayed away from her for almost a month without one letter or message for her.
"Good evening," she said politely. She looked at the flowers. "Are those for me or for Mrs. Wortley?"
A smile flitted across his face. "They are for you. But perhaps Mrs. Wortley can put them in water."
Mrs. Wortley promptly relieved Darcy of his burden and left them to themselves. Darcy's footman similarly melted away and they were alone, standing facing each other a few feet apart.
"Will you walk with me?" he asked.
She nodded. She was bareheaded and clad only in a light gown and slippers so she led him in the direction of one of the fields that belonged to the farm, though it was a neighbour who did the actual farming. She folded her arms across her back while she walked and waited for him to speak. After casting several earnest glances at her profile, he did.
"Elizabeth, I will not attempt to excuse my conduct. It was reprehensible and has tortured me every day since I left you. I was mad with jealousy and so I sought to wound you in any fashion I could."
She glanced at him. "Why did you wait so long to return?"
The colour rose in his face. "It was only recently that my folly was brought home to me and I learnt to view events in a more rational light."
"How was it brought home to you?"
"Lord Blake," he said, somewhat begrudgingly.
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Lord Blake?"
"Yes, I … er … encountered him and we managed to settle our differences."
Darcy's face became a little pinker under the tan. Four days ago, he had been at Wentworth House, still brooding over the frailties of woman. Georgiana had complained that he was terrible company and Lady Fitzwilliam accused him of scaring away all of her guests with his dour countenance.
As usual in the summer, the vast house was filled with dozens of guests, and one could go an entire visit without running into some of them. But he had run into Lord Blake the morning after Blake's arrival with Colonel Fitzwilliam, when all of the gentlemen had happened to come down for breakfast at the same time. After a half hour of furious brooding, Darcy had issued his challenge.
"My lord,
I hereby request you name a time and place where I may meet you, to obtain satisfaction for the injury you have already done to myself and that which you intend in the future. I will only add that it must be early, and at a location not on the estate, to avoid giving inconvenience to our hostess. You may choose the means by which this event shall occur.
F. Darcy"
Lord Blake's reply had been prompt, delivered to Darcy's dressing chamber less than an hour later.
"Mr. Darcy,
Let no man accuse me of shirking in an affair of honour. I will be pleased to meet you at four o'clock in the common just beyond the village cricket piece. I trust you will bring your own pistols, but if not, mine shall be at your disposal. As for the preliminaries, I am content to leave it to our seconds to determine.
Blake"
Darcy, assuming Colonel Fitzwilliam would be Lord Blake's second, had asked his friend George Lamb to stand for him, and the latter had not waited to finish his tea and toast in Lady Fitzwilliam's formal breakfast parlour before promptly agreeing. At four o'clock the next morning, all four men and a sleepy surgeon had arrived at the copse beyond the village green.
Darcy had been angry and determined; Lord Blake pale and resolute. Their seconds, Colonel Fitzwilliam and George Lamb, were alert and business-like and negotiated the terms of the fateful encounter carefully. In the dim morning light, they paced off the ground and examined and compared each combatant's pistols to ensure neither had an unfair advantage. At last they called Darcy and Lord Blake to their places for the final, formal attempt at settlement.
Darcy faced Lord Blake. The marquess was several inches shorter but, Darcy had to admit with grudging respect, bore himself with courage considering Darcy's well-known prowess on the shooting range.
"Am I to know for what reason I am being called to account?" Lord Blake queried.
"You know what this is about," Darcy had replied tersely.
"Actually, I do not. Do you, Fitz?" he appealed to his friend.
"No idea," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied. "I am here half out of curiosity."
"Lamb?"
"Darcy told me nothing," George Lamb replied.
"Elizabeth," Darcy spat out.
Lord Blake furrowed his brow. "Who is Elizabeth?"
It had not taken long from there for the incident to descend into a farce. Taking the Marquess's comment as further insult, Darcy had planted him a facer, leaving him to measure his length in the dust. Colonel Fitzwilliam had immediately leapt on his cousin in protest, out of a sense of outraged propriety as much as friendship. George Lamb, still confused as to both the issue and the principal lady involved, had waded into the melee in an attempt to induce calm, but only succeeded in inflaming the situation further when Lord Blake picked himself up and launched himself at him.
In the midst of this, a stately carriage bearing the Fitzwilliam crest pulled up near the copse, accompanied by a rider on horseback. Lord Milton jumped out of the carriage and he and the local constable hurried to the scene. Lord Milton had been walking the halls with his fourth-born and heir, who was teething, and happened to hear the noise and see Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lord Blake leaving the house with the pistol case.
"Are you all out of your senses?! Stop this at once!" he cried. The anger in his voice - and the disconcerting sight of him in his dressing gown, slippers and cotton nightcap - was sufficient to induce them to obey.
Lord Milton insisted they all return to the house with him in his carriage. The constable backed up this demand with a promise of arrest if they did not, trying not to rub his hands in glee at the tale he would have to tell at the local tavern about the quality behaving badly. In the end, they rode back to Wentworth House while Lord Milton castigated Lord Blake and Darcy for being so profligate as to risk the future of their respective houses, then turned on George Lamb and Colonel Fitzwilliam for being so lax as to help them.
"What on earth is this about?" Lord Milton demanded.
"A girl," was Colonel Fitzwilliam's terse reply. He held his handkerchief to his lip, which was beginning to swell up from contact with Darcy's fist. "Darcy's."
"A girl? Darcy?" Lord Milton said in astonishment and dismay.
"Ohhh … Elizabeth," said Lord Blake, illumination dawning.
Darcy glared at the marquess.
"You said I was to appear as a friend." Lord Blake said accusingly, cupping his bruised cheek.
"I said a friend, not a rake and a scoundrel!"
"I was only trying to help," Lord Blake shrugged. "Fitz told me you intended to cast her out after six months, but she was far too good for that."
"I said no such thing," said Darcy, now glaring at Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"Indeed, we drank to it," Colonel Fitzwilliam said. "I even felt penitent afterward, because it was shockingly bad advice. You do not wish to develop a reputation as a cad."
"You should never have propositioned her," Darcy said, rounding back on Lord Blake.
"It was an idle suggestion only. I certainly did not intend offence. Besides, she had no interest in me. Took me to task over Giacinta. Perhaps there I have been a bit of a cad," Lord Blake added reflectively. "In any case, if you wish for an apology over this, I offer it freely. I misunderstood your intentions."
"You cannot expect people to know your mind if you do not speak it, Darcy," Colonel Fitzwilliam said.
"I have been telling him that for years," George Lamb added, unhelpfully.
Darcy glared at them all, although with only half-hearted malevolence. It was beginning to dawn on him that he had been a fool about the whole business. And now he had lost a whole month, if Elizabeth would ever admit him into her presence again. He thought of what he had said to her and winced. He thought of what she had said to him and died a little inside.
Lord Milton had been listening to the proceedings with horror. "I would not have believed it of you, Darcy. I thought you had better morals than some." He looked pointedly at his brother and Lord Blake. "My mother and Lady Catherine are right, you must marry as soon as possible, and to a steady, virtuous woman. It is the only way to avoid being mired in sin."
"Yes, marry him off," Lord Blake said sardonically, probing his bruised cheek tenderly. "He has become a menace to good society."
Darcy did not relate any of this to Elizabeth. Instead, he said quietly, "I was a brute. Can you forgive me?"
She nodded solemnly. "I think we both said terrible things we did not mean."
He brightened. "No? You did not mean it?"
She looked up at him and, shaking her head, gave a little smile. "I lost my temper."
Darcy smiled, the sombreness gone. He cleared his throat. "Elizabeth, I must ask you something."
"Yes?"
"Who was it that hit you?"
RANDOM HISTORICAL NOTES:
1. Lady Caroline Lamb (1785-1828) was the Earl of Bessborough's only daughter, and niece of both the Countess Fitzwilliam and the Duchess of Devonshire (Georgiana). An author and poet, she is best known for her short-lived and extremely public love affair with the poet Lord Byron in 1812, which was followed by a (disputed) attempt to slit her wrists in the middle of the ballroom at Lady Heathcote's ball in 1813. High society was shocked, not at her infidelity, but her lack of discretion.
2. The Hon. William Lamb (1779-1848), Lady Caroline's husband, was later Lord Melbourne and twice prime minister under Queen Victoria. Considered a rising political star in his youth, he chose not to contest for a seat in the 1812 election and largely stepped out of politics until after his wife's descent into mental illness and then death in 1828. History disagrees as to whether he was indolent and indifferent or shattered by his wife's behaviour, but he stood by her to the end despite extreme pressure from family and friends to put her aside.
3. Lord Byron, the famous poet. History disputes how much he is to blame in the Lady Caroline Lamb affair. His letters reveal that he alternated between pledging love to her and making fun of her to his other lovers, but it is clear that she wished the affair to continue longer than he did. In response to her plea for a lock of his hair, he sent pubic hair gleefully provided by one of his other lovers, Lady Oxford.
4. Viscount Melbourne was a non-entity overshadowed by his wife, a brilliant political operative who greatly advanced her family's fortunes by discreet affairs with powerful men, including the Prince of Wales. Lord Melbourne was largely content to let Lady Melbourne go her own way while he enjoyed his mistress. That changed in 1805 when Peniston Lamb, the only son of his blood, died at age 35 and William Lamb, reputedly the son of the Earl of Egremont, became heir apparent to the Melbourne viscountcy.
5. The Hon. George Lamb (1784-1834) was a politician and writer and married Caroline St. Jules, illegitimate daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire (Bess). His age makes him the exact contemporary of Darcy according to the conventional timeline, and his name appears on the school lists for Eton and Cambridge at the exact time you would expect Darcy to have been in attendance. He is believed to be an illegitimate son of the Prince of Wales, who was his godfather.
6. Viscount Milton, later the 5th Earl Fitzwilliam, married his first cousin the Hon. Mary Dundas, daughter of the 1st Baron Dundas, in 1806 and they had 13 children. His heir apparent, William, was born January 18, 1812, making him about five and a half months old in his mention in this chapter. Lord Milton had a reputation as an earnest and virtuous man with beautifully gentle manners, though on occasion he displayed considerable political courage. His nickname given by political rivals and enemies at school was "Old Lady Milton."
© 2017 by "LucyQ" at Merytondotcom and "LucyQT" at Fanfictiondotnet ALL RIGHTS RESERVED