Dear lovely readers, Happy Thanksgiving! (though a bit late). Sorry for the delay in posting. We have several days of Black Friday sales in Sydney and I've been doing my best to help Australia's economy by shopping! So even though I'm not too happy with Darcy in this chapter, I just let it go. I hope no tomatoes will come my way.
Chapter Ten
1811
"Look! It is Eliza Bennet who lives at the Gibson!" a giggling voice whispered. "Have you heard about her mother and sisters posing in that nude painting? How scandalous!"
"Oh, yes! Do you think she is as loose as her sisters?" another voice said, more loudly.
Elizabeth closed her eyes in frustration, looking back at the snickering girls with a sharp glance, causing them to laugh at her more. She was at a milliner shop not too far from Mr. Gibson's office, eyeing some new ribbon. After hearing this, however, Elizabeth left quickly, doing her best not to make eye contact with anyone.
"What on earth have they done now?" Elizabeth said under to her breath as she walked back to the Gibson business. She had been living in London for over a year now and faring well, though she seemed not to be able to escape the ongoing scandals of her mother and sisters.
She entered the office of Mr. Gibson. Elizabeth and Mary performed some clerical duties, which might have been considered unsuitable for the girls, but they desired more in life than embroidery and gossip calls. They were also grateful for Mr. Gibson's help and would like to repay him.
Sitting down next to Mary, Elizabeth fumed, "I am so tired of being tied to mother, Jane, Kitty and Lydia! Everything that they do trickles down to us. I do not know how our reputation might ever be repaired."
"I gather you have heard about the painting," Mary said, amused. Despite their grandmother's aloof nature, Mary had blossomed since being removed from her mother's home and under the loving care of Elizabeth. "They have certainly become talk of the town."
"I say! I do not know how they live with themselves," Elizabeth muttered.
"I believe Mother is attending supper tonight. She and our sisters are in town with Lord Radbourne to attend a theatre performance this weekend. I suppose they would like to come boast about the attention they have received," Mary said quietly.
"Oh dear," Elizabeth said anxiously. She hated their brief visits, which were never to see her or Mary, but predictably to show off new jewels or brag about rubbing elbows with nobility.
"I can hardly go anywhere without someone knowing that I am related to them. I am exhausted of being laughed at behind my back or treated coldly to my face because of their actions." Elizabeth said in exasperation. "I wish that I could change my name."
Mary smiled to herself, saying "You might get married? I see the way Mr. Gibson's apprentice looks at you."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her sister, saying, "You jest, sister. Daniel Pratt is… handsome. Yet I am not certain that I would be suitable for him." The prospect of marriage always made Elizabeth think of Fitzwilliam Darcy. She could never marry him, not only because of her reputation, but also because of the fact that he seemed to regard her as a friend or little sister, not a love interest. Elizabeth pushed thoughts of Fitzwilliam out of her head, saving them for later.
Mary's voice brought her back to the present. "He certainly is charming," she said with a sigh.
"Mary, have you a fondness for Mr. Pratt?" Elizabeth said with a laugh, nudging her sister. "Perhaps you might marry him."
Mary flushed—her eyes wide behind her spectacles. "I doubt it. He would have no interest in someone like me."
"Do not be so sure. You will make a love match—let's just hope that our reputations improve before you reach the majority," Elizabeth said with a smile.
Later that evening, Elizabeth and Mary prepared themselves for dinner, hearing their mother and sisters arrive at the townhouse. They clasped hands for support as they descended the stairs, ready for the onslaught of boasts and insults.
"Mother, Jane, Kitty, Lydia," Elizabeth said, greeting them with a curt nod.
"Elizabeth," Mrs. Bennet said with a facetious smile. "Look at what Lord Radbourne purchased for me this morning, is it not lovely?" she asked, showing her a gleaming sapphire necklace.
"Lovely, Mother. How do you all fare?" Elizabeth asked.
"So well, Elizabeth," Jane said. "Lord Radbourne treats us all like princesses. I am sure you and Mary regret your choice."
Mary piped up with surprising confidence. "Not at all, Jane. We are much pleased here, without the need for such attentions."
Elizabeth smiled to herself while Jane frowned at her mother with confusion.
"I suppose you have heard about the painting?" Mrs. Bennet asked. Mrs. Gibson frowned, though she did not speak up.
"Indeed, we have. Your scandals always seem to make their way to us, no matter how we try to avoid them," Elizabeth said.
"Scandals? What did you know, Miss Lizzy! It as such fun and Lord Radbourne quite admired my courage, not to mention my form!" Mrs. Bennet berated Elizabeth. Her new circle of friends had encouraged Mrs. Bennet and the girls to pose for the painting. Their pose inspired by all of the conversation surrounding an infamous but much admired French Countess de Castellane who had done the same.
Lydia spoke up, saying, "Lord Radbourne shall love how we will take the town by storm."
"Right," Elizabeth said, unconvinced.
"The painting was an incredible opportunity for all of us. We will have the respect of the town eventually," Mrs. Bennet said.
Respect? Was her mother delusional? Elizabeth thought that if Mrs. Bennet believed that by getting ridiculed in Town was respect, her mother trully had lost her mind.
"Are you happy now, dear?" Mrs. Gibson said to her daughter.
"I am, Mama. I finally got what I desired," replied Mrs. Bennet. "I am the Mistress of Wigston and threw six house parties attended by no less than one duke and three lords. Jane is so admired by all of them. But I forbid her to make a match unless with a lord of more than seven thousand pounds a year."
"And Lady Radbourne?" Elizabeth asked, seething. "How is the true mistress of Wigston faring?"
"She is getting more and more senseless every day. She can hardly walk without the aid of a servant, let alone performing the duty of a mistress of such a vast estate." Mrs. Bennet replied with disdain. "Lady Radbourne should thank me for stepping in to manage her household."
Mrs. Bennet raged in her mind. She was still unhappy about her life. But she did not want her mother, Elizabeth or Mary to know otherwise. While Mrs. Bennet was pleased with the amount of jewellery Lord Radbourne had bestowed her, her parties were never well-attended by the right kind of people. Many who attended her soirees were drunkards or gamesters who only wanted free meals and wines. And their mistresses always grated on Fanny's nerve. For example, some of her new acquaintances dared her to sit for the nude painting in the Wigston's Folly with her three daughters, just as Countess de Castellane had done with her children. But in the past few days in London, Mrs. Bennet could not secure any of the lords and dukes with thick pockets to attend the appreciation night she organised. Again, her dinners were mainly attended by those rumoured to be deeply in debt.
"What events will you all be attending during your visit?" Mrs. Gibson asked.
"It is just a short visit, but I rather anticipated new opera and a ball!" Jane said excitedly. She reached the age of majority now and looking forward to securing an advantageous match.
"How grand, Jane," Elizabeth said sarcastically. There was a very small part of her that wished she could attend the ball as well, but she would never under those circumstances. Her preference was to keep her distance from her mother and other sisters as much as possible.
Mrs. Bennet frowned at Elizabeth. "I know it may be hard not to have such incredible opportunities, Elizabeth, but do not forget it was your decision."
"I am pleased with my decision," said Elizabeth calmly. "Grandmother and Mr. Gibson have been so gracious to us." She smiled at her grandmother, who shrugged her shoulders. Elizabeth thought that her grandmother was not entirely pleased to have her and Mary as wards, but Mr. Gibson enjoyed having young people in the house. Mrs. Gibson bowed to her husband's request. She gave Elizabeth and Mary the space and peace to recover from their time at Pemberley—and for that Elizabeth was eternally grateful.
"We even help Mr. Gibson with his business, which has been most productive," Mary said with a grin.
"How ghastly," Lydia said with disgust.
Mrs. Gibson cleared her throat, but replied, "It was not my decision, but the girls insisted on having something constructive to do. I do not pretend to understand it, I won't deny that they have been a help to Mr. Gibson." Mr. Gibson was a hard-working man, who did not suffer fools gladly. He did not like how Mrs. Bennet tried to make her fortune, especially involving three of her young daughters. He allowed Mrs. Bennet's visits to her mother only if he was away on business, as he was currently.
"Well, Jane, Kitty and Lydia shall never work a day in their life, I will be sure of that," Mrs. Bennet said.
"I am sure your plotting will be ever successful," Elizabeth murmured under her breath.
Mrs. Bennet continued her loud boastings to her mother, ignoring all that Elizabeth had to say. In the meantime, Jane pulled Mary aside to ask her more about her life at the Gibson. Elizabeth looked at Jane's friendly gesture with wary eyes.
That evening after Mrs. Bennet, Jane, Kitty and Lydia returned to Lord Radbourne's townhouse, a maid knocked faintly at Elizabeth's bedchamber door. Opening it, the maid handed Elizabeth an envelope. "From Mr. Kingsway," she whispered with a smile.
Elizabeth beamed. She had been waiting for the letter all week. She and Darcy had written to each other in secret ever since she had left Pemberley. They had written regularly without fail and it was highlight of Elizabeth's month. The letters were sent to Mr. Kingsway's office, who forwarded them to the other, assisting them in their secrecy.
With her heart pounding, Elizabeth opened the letter, hands trembling with excitement.
Dearest Elizabeth,
I must begin this letter by asking: have you had any progress with the investigation? It has been some time since I have directly spoken to Kingsway, so I am uncertain. I am curious to ascertain what you might have uncovered.
How do you fare otherwise? Is working for Mr. Gibson all that you envisioned? I do not believe for a moment that such a position is appropriate for a gentlewoman such as yourself. Still, I do find the desire to work not only admirable, but reflective of my own desires. I have spent much of this month at Pemberley, checking on the horses and sheep, but I itch for more real work. I am not certain I shall embark on a tour of Father's estates in Ireland or Italy.
On another note, I have heard about your mother's the painting. The scandal will, no doubt, make its way to you. I pray that you will not be upset by the whispers of strangers—mind you, their opinions do not matter.
I hear someone calling for me—I must finish this letter. I wait patiently for your reply. Until then, I remain,
Your affectionate friend,
Fitzwilliam.
Elizabeth re-read the letter again and again until it was memorised, wanting to soak up every word. She missed Darcy fiercely and his letters supported her through even the most trying days.
She could not help but notice that Darcy always signed his letters, your friend. Elizabeth wished there was some way for things to be different, for Darcy to realise that there was more between them, but it would be shameful for her to suggest such a thing. Besides, she did not wish to sour the renewed friendship with him.
A friendship with Fitzwilliam is better than nothing at all, Elizabeth thought. With that, she read the letter again.
~P&P~P&P~P&P~
"Mr. Darcy, a letter for you," a servant said, handing him an envelope. "From Mr. Kingsway."
Darcy shot up in his chair, snatching the letter from the servant's hand, yelling an apology to the man as he nearly ran to his bedchamber. He was alone at Pemberley, which was solitary but peaceable—especially without the pressures of his mother or George Wickham. Since coming of age in 1810, Darcy arranged for Lady Anne and George to be relocated to another property. His life was much better for it.
Dearest Fitzwilliam,
To our great misfortune, I do not have any more information at present regarding the investigation. I do know that Mr. Kingsway still searches where he can, but it appears as though the bloodied carriage driver seen by the farmer has vanished without a trace.
Mary and I fare well. Assisting Mr. Gibson with his secretarial duties has proven to be a much-needed distraction from all of the controversy surrounding my notorious mother and sisters. It is a shame that I cannot merely go out to the nearby shops without hearing snickers behind me. Mary has an affection for the apprentice, Mr. Pratt, though she will not admit it and insists that he is interested in myself. I tease her mercilessly, to both of our amusement.
I dearly wish that I might be able to travel one day, it would be such exciting adventure. Any escape from my mother and sisters would be very welcome.
As you undoubtedly know, my twenty-first birthday approaches this winter. I do wonder if you might perhaps make a visit to London. I am sure that Mary would love to see you. Until your reply, which will undoubtedly take forever, I remain,
Your friend,
Elizabeth
"Your friend," Darcy said out loud to no one as he put the letter down on the desk, neatly folding it and placing it in the locked door where he kept all of her letters.
"Always a friend," Darcy whispered. He tried to add little things like 'affectionate,' or call her pet names, but still, there were no hints at any further feelings that Elizabeth might hold toward him. He thought it was nearly time to put his feelings to rest. He would always love Elizabeth, but he thought by now there would be some inkling of her affections. There was not—it might be best to not continue to pine over unrequited love.
"I could never attend her birthday now," Darcy said with sadness. He did not trust himself around her—his feelings were too much. He did not have confidence in himself to not kiss her senseless when he saw her next, and perhaps that might ruin the friendship they had.
That was the most important thing of all. Especially now, when Darcy lived alone, isolated from all he loved.
~P&P~P&P~P&P~
A few weeks later, he rode in his carriage to Matlock to attend a ball. Darcy did not necessarily want to go but his uncle insisted.
"Fitzwilliam, darling," his mother, Lady Anne called out to him as he entered the main hall, which was vibrant with many people from the county and beyond.
"Hello, Mother," Darcy said, nodding at the other revellers that encircled her.
His cousin, Anne de Bourgh was there also, playing with her fan, instead of looking at him. His mother had still not given up trying to engage him to her. "Anne, how lovely to see you," Darcy said politely.
She murmured, "Good evening, Fitzwilliam. You look very well." Darcy bowed curtly. Anne was vapid, like his mother. Luckily Lady Catherine remained in Kent, or Darcy's night would be even more unbearable. He needed intelligence in a wife, at the very least.
Just then, Darcy heard a loud cackle. He looked up to find Mrs. Bennet, dressed in glittering jewels and loudly speaking with another. Her daughters Lydia and Jane flanked her like cherubim, smiling at every man that passed. Kitty followed meekly behind.
"Yes, they are here too, unfortunately. Lady Matlock is furious with her father for bringing his mistress and the entourage. But Lord Radbourne cannot be gainsaid. The money-grabbing widow seems to truly enjoy the scandal they have caused," Lady Anne said sourly. Despising those particular Bennets seemed to be the one thing that he and he is mother both shared.
"No doubt dreaming of an even bigger scandal," Darcy murmured. He bid farewell to his mother and Anne and walked out to the garden to think. He hated being in a room with Mrs. Bennet and would simply bide his time here before he left.
"Elizabeth was always a fool to pass you up," a voice called behind him, belonging to Jane Bennet. She eyed him hungrily, making Darcy perturbed.
"What do you mean?" Darcy asked.
"Do not play daft. I know that you have been pining after Elizabeth for countless years. It is a shame she is too dense to see it," Jane said with a titter.
"Do not speak of her that way," Darcy said angrily.
"I was merely teasing," Jane said, smirking at him. "I only mean to say that she should have realized. You have certainly grown to be very handsome. But now, she has settled for a mere apprentice at Mr. Gibson's business. Mr. Pratt is nothing compared to you. I don't know what Lizzy is thinking, " She stepped forward and traced her hand down the front of his coat. "You know, my dear Will, I can take away your pain, console you, tease you, whatever way you want." Jane lowered her voice in a sultry way.
Darcy shook his head and stepped away from her, knowing at once that this was a plot to get more money out of him—probably organised by Mrs. Bennet. "Hold your tongue, Miss Bennet."
"I wonder if she will finally come to her senses when your notice of engagement to Anne de Bourgh is printed?" Jane asked threateningly.
"I shan't be marrying Anne," Darcy said coolly.
"Perhaps not. Miss de Bourgh may have the fortune, but I have the beauty and alluring form, remember that, Will," Jane said, smiling at him again. "Do not leave it too late, my dear, as I shall be saying hello now to your charming cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam."
Jane unnerved him a bit—she always seemed to know what was going on. He detested her, Lydia, and their mother, especially for how they treated Elizabeth and Mary. It was despicable.
Heading back inside, Darcy was immediately accosted by Anne, who wanted to go for a stroll along the garden with him.
"Are you sure you would not like that, Fitzwilliam? It is such a clear night," she said, batting dark lashes over blue eyes again.
"No thank you. I must return to Pemberley immediately—there is an urgent matter," Darcy said, wanting to move away from her at once. She pouted at him, and he left before she could protest.
At the corner of the hall, Darcy saw his mother and Lady Matlock, speaking intensely in harsh, intense tones. He was curious about what might be going on there—his mother was smirking at the woman while Lady Matlock looked rather upset. Darcy hesitated, but ultimately decided not to get involved in his mother's troubles. There were too many of them, after all.
That night, Darcy wrote to Elizabeth in his bedchamber, anxious to write what he needed to.
Dearest Elizabeth,
I regret to tell you that I shall not be able to attend your birthday, as I will be embarking on a tour to Italy. I feel as though some warmth from the south might befit me this winter. I am dearly sorry, however, and will write to you often.
I do hope Mr. Pratt is a gentlemanly sort—if he does fancy you, I shall only approve if he is most gallant.
I attended a ball at Lord Matlock's, where your sister Jane came to speak with me. It was most unpleasant. I thank God daily that neither you nor Mary are with them.
There is more I should say, Elizabeth, but I must sleep. Until then,
Fitzwilliam
With that, he decided he would lay his feelings regarding Elizabeth to rest. It was good that there might be a man to court Elizabeth—if only to put her further out of reach. Darcy began to plan his tour for the winter, which seemed to be exactly what he needed. That way he could be as far away from Elizabeth as he could manage—far away enough that his love could quiet down, if only for a little while.