The Golden Apples of the Sun Page 5
In the lane, the intense and varied greens of the wild grasses and hedgerows spoke of recent showers and on some leaves it was still possible to spot yesterday’s raindrops rapidly drying in the hot sun. Darcy progressed slowly, stopping here and there to pluck a leaf and test the juiciness of its flesh. As he walked, his eye searched out signs of oozing sap or unusual growth formations on the trees, while his hands brushed against the feathered tops of grass stalks that hung heavy with seed. In short, he conducted himself much as he would have were he strolling about his own estate in the north; for Darcy, unlike his father, loved the countryside and was extremely interested in the management of his land.
The lane came to an end and the long, treeless incline leading up the mount stretched before him. He approached, squinting against the glare. Yes, he had been right: there was a young woman halfway up the slope. Her body was bent forward as she leaned into the climb, but unquestionably it was Elizabeth Bennet. How he knew this with such certainty, Darcy had no idea; just as he had no idea why he too began to climb, when the simplest, most sensible thing in the world would have been to turn back and thus avoid encountering her.
In the end we all feel first and then use our reasoning to justify and make sense of our responses. On this particular morning, Darcy longed for contact and was as powerless against the pull of his emotions as the next fellow. Elizabeth Bennet was not his sister and did not fit his carefully constructed image of the feminine ideal; but she was attractive, honest, intelligent and somewhat intriguing. His need to share the glory of the day with someone swung the balance and he set out after her.
He climbed the slope swiftly, arriving at the summit feeling pleasantly flushed. Looking about him for Elizabeth, he saw that she had claimed a seat some distance away on a small rocky outcrop overlooking the valley below. Her back was towards him, so she was initially unaware of his presence. He was quite close behind her when a stone crunching underfoot caused her to start.
“Mr. Darcy!” she said, rising to face him, her clear eyes widening in surprise.
He could see her bonnet hanging from her hand, twisting on the ribbons caught between her fingers. Her hair, he noted, hung over one shoulder in a long, glossy braid. From its slightly mussed look, he guessed that she had worn it that way to bed and had not bothered to brush it out for her early morning ramble. Somehow that pleased him. It was consistent with the whole - although what the whole was he couldn’t quite say.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, making a bow that was much more formal than the occasion warranted. “I am glad to see you, and even more pleased that someone has finally given you my name. I take it that we are now to consider ourselves introduced?”
For the first time in a long while, Darcy was trying valiantly to set someone at ease. For reasons that he did not quite understand but which had something to do with her undoubted intelligence, he wanted to overcome their previous difficulties and charm Elizabeth Bennet into conversation. He continued, “When I saw you walk up here, I felt that I must come up and apologise for my behaviour at the circulating library. I am not usually that irritable. I can only think that I was adversely affected by the bump to my jaw.”
“Apology accepted, Mr. Darcy. If the truth be told, I was not a model of decorum myself,” she said with reserve, looking at him carefully as she self-consciously swung her bonnet back and forth.
He grinned, appreciating her honesty. “Your family’s absence at last night’s assembly in Meryton was noticed. Mr. Bingley was most disappointed.”
She raised her eyebrows, seemingly amused. “And I gather from that remark that you were not similarly affected?”
Darcy, who invariably felt superior to the women he met in town, was surprised by Elizabeth Bennet’s self-confidence. Intelligent or not, it was unusual for a young lady to be so poised: so adept at teasing a member of the opposite sex. He found that he wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I am not an enthusiastic dancer, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied honestly. “One could say that I usually avoid assemblies. And yourself?”
“We attend but rarely, Sir.”
“Oh! Your sisters do not enjoy dancing? Most unusual… I know very few young ladies who would share that view,” said Darcy, congratulating himself on the subtlety of his interrogation. By hook or by crook, he would get to the bottom of this mystery surrounding the Bennets.
But Elizabeth Bennet seemed to see what he was about for she reddened and replied in a vague manner, “In fact, I think that you will find that we are not dissimilar to most young ladies, sir. We all enjoy dancing; ‘tis only that my father disapproves.”
“Then if it is dancing that is the problem, perhaps we are to have the pleasure of your company at Lucas Lodge this evening? We are to dine there and, to my knowledge, dancing has not been mentioned.”
“I believe we will not be attending, Sir.”
“Ah!” said Darcy. He had her in a corner now and was ready to get to the heart of the matter with his final question, but suddenly he took pity on her discomfort and did not go in for the kill as he had intended. Instead he turned away to look down into the valley below.
“I find myself surprised by the view from up here,” he observed randomly. “Although fairly steep, the incline does not lead one to anticipate the enormity of the drop from here to the floor of the valley below. It must be several hundred feet.”
“Mr. Darcy.” He heard sudden resolution in the voice coming from behind him. “Perhaps I should explain something: in the interests of any future contact that might chance to take place between our family, Mr. Bingley and yourself.”
Darcy turned back to see Elizabeth Bennet with her head down, propelling a stone around in the dust with the tip of her small boot. “If you feel you should,” he replied.
“You will learn of it anyway,” she shrugged, keeping her eyes lowered as colour rose up her neck to inflame her cheeks.
“At one time we were five Bennet sisters, sir. But two and a half years ago the militia encamped here at Meryton and my youngest sister was persuaded to elope with one of the officers. At the time she was barely fourteen and he a man in his late twenties. I mention this because - although Lydia was very indulged by my mother - I can’t find it in my heart to blame her. She was little more than a child and fell under this man’s influence so completely. Of course, she foolishly believed that they were to marry; but he had other plans.’
“Lydia was lost to our family for almost a year. It was my mother’s brother who discovered her. She had been abandoned many months before: left to fend for herself in the slums of London. I am sure you can imagine what happened to her there. When she was found, she had miscarried but was so ashamed of her disgrace that she only sent a message to my uncle’s London home when she realized that she was not long for this world.’
“Since her disappearance, my father, who was once the most careless of parents, has become rigidly opposed to his daughters even leaving his estate. We dine with the Lucas family occasionally, as they are particular friends and were very supportive at the time that Lydia disappeared. But my father is a proud man, Mr. Darcy and he will not expose himself or his family to the scorn of the people of this district.’
“We have all been ruined by my sister’s actions. And, as you can imagine, none of us expect to marry. I have only told you this in the interests of my older sister’s peace of mind. Jane is particularly sensitive and I don’t think that she could form an acquaintance with Mr. Bingley and then endure the inevitable rejection that would follow upon him learning the truth of our situation. I leave it to your discretion to let him know as much or as little of our story as you think wise.”
Then, still without looking at him directly, she bobbed her head politely and turned away.
Darcy stood watching her descent until she reached the bottom of the hill and disappeared under the canopy of trees that sheltered the lane. He stood for a moment to clear his head and then he too began to walk slowly back down the slope.
He was a little ashamed of the probing that had provoked her into revealing her secret and felt that he ought to honour the trust she had placed in him by ensuring that Bingley saw Lydia Bennet’s tale in the most sympathetic light possible. And it was a tragic story. Miss Elizabeth would never know just how strongly it resonated with him. He completely understood her father’s instinct to hide his daughters from the world. There had been a time when he had wished to lock himself and Georgie away from all human contact. But in his case, reason had prevailed when he realized that his sister’s misery would only intensify if she had to spend her life distrusting everyone.
No. In the face of humiliation, the answer was always to gather oneself together, make sense of what had happened and get out there and face humanity. That way, there was a chance of healing. Certainly Georgiana had now found enough courage to take the final steps on her own. But then, her situation had been different. Her disgrace had not been public, nor had it been as complete as Lydia Bennet’s.
Darcy meandered slowly along the lanes, delaying his return to Netherfield. All the vulnerability that he had felt six months ago when disaster had faced Georgiana revisited him. He felt that he was not immediately up to the inevitable, detailed discussion with Charles that would follow on his sharing of Miss Elizabeth’s revelation.
As luck would have it, when he finally got back to Netherfield his friend was out riding. Secretly pleased to have their discussion postponed, Darcy resolved to speak to Charles on their return from Lucas Lodge later that evening.
Chapter 7
“We taste and feel and see the truth.
We do not reason ourselves into it.”
W. B. Yeats
Dinner was behind them (a stodgy affair consisting of several dishes, a very large side of beef and mountains of roast potatoes) and the men had rejoined the ladies in the parlour. It had been a warm day and some windows stood wide open, but the lady of the house objected to the breeze and so Darcy and Bingley were condemned to sit with her in an airless corner of her choice. There they sweated and tugged at their cravats while attempting to make small talk. In the background, Charlotte Lucas poured the tea.
“Charlotte mentioned that you met Jane and Elizabeth Bennet at the Meryton Library the other day, Mr. Bingley,” observed Lady Lucas meaningfully, a penetrating gleam in her eye as she looked up to take her cup from her daughter. To her right Sir William shifted his rotund belly, valiantly trying not to nod off.
“Indeed we did. It was a great pleasure. It has been a great pleasure to meet all the ladies of Meryton,” said Bingley stumbling over his words and mopping his brow as he sensed disapproval coming in waves from his hostess; a woman who had been overpoweringly gracious up until this very moment.
“Bingley and I were rather surprised to discover the existence of a circulating library in the town, Lady Lucas,” interrupted Darcy, bravely trying to assist his friend out of his difficulty by giving the conversation a turn.
“Well, I don’t know why you would be. There are people who can read here, Mr. Darcy.”
“But you will admit that it is a little unusual to find a library in a town of this size. Lambton - the town closest to my estate - is larger than Meryton, but it does not boast a circulating library.”
“One really cannot account for what might happen in the north,” said Lady Lucas, quite as if she were referring to China, or some other far flung place where one could not expect to find libraries or indeed any other signs of civilization.
Sir William, suddenly alerted to the need to cast oil on troubled waters by his wife’s tone, interjected a soothing, “Too true, my dear.” Then continuing in an ingratiating manner he nodded in Darcy’s direction and said, “But Mr. Darcy’s Pemberley is a great estate and I believe that it has a library that would cast our little one at Meryton into the shade. Is that not so, Mr. Darcy?” he asked as he rubbed his hands together.
“Mr. Darcy. Could I interest you in a cup of tea?”
Coming from the other side of the room, Charlotte Lucas’s sensible voice offered Darcy a polite escape. He stood immediately, eager to remove himself from the current conversation which Lady Lucas obviously intended to dominate. He felt somewhat guilty about leaving Bingley to cope alone but it was clear that his presence had somehow become an irritation. Lady Lucas obviously wanted to speak to Charles alone and it seemed that the topic she favoured had something to do with the Bennet girls. Well, let Charles deal with it, he thought. Perhaps it might make him think twice before getting involved there.
He walked away, but not before he saw Lady Lucas lean towards Charles once again. “Mr. Bingley. A word to the wise if you please…” he heard her say before he moved out of range.
At the far end of the room, Charlotte Lucas stood next to a mahogany tea table, her small person dwarfed by the enormous portrait of King George III on the wall behind her. It was a strange likeness, in that the monarch’s head appeared to be far too small for his body. Darcy wondered if it was sheer artistic ineptitude, a trick of perspective or if the King’s torso had been deliberately enlarged in order to better display all the jewels and medals that were strung about his person. From His Majesty’s bewildered stare, it seemed clear that he was in no position to answer the question.
What a monstrosity to have hanging on one’s wall, Darcy thought. But then Sir William would relish the display of jewels and probably not be bothered by issues of anatomical inaccuracy. After all, the man had originally been a shopkeeper and only owed his elevation to the knighthood to a flattering speech he had delivered as mayor on the occasion of the King passing through Meryton.
Interrupting Darcy’s musings, Charlotte handed him his cup. “Please excuse my mother, Mr. Darcy,” she said softly. “She means well, but is very protective of the Bennet girls.”
Not having an adequate response, Darcy merely raised his brows.
“I spoke with Elizabeth Bennet this afternoon and she told me that she had taken you into her confidence about the family’s situation when she met you on Oakham Mount this morning. She and I are particular friends, you see. ”
Darcy abandoned his superior attitude and asked with some concern, “Are things as bad for the Bennets in Meryton as they imagine, Miss Lucas?
“It’s very hard to say, Mr. Darcy. In the two years since Lydia’s death, no one ever attempted to gossip to me about them. But then it is well known in the neighbourhood that our two families are close. What has been your experience?”
“Similar to yours. I asked after the family at the assembly last night and no one seemed willing to elaborate on their absence.”
“My mother heard you enquiring. It was what decided her to invite you to dinner this evening instead of next week, as she had originally planned. She regards the Bennet girls almost as her own daughters, you know. When Lydia eloped with Lieutenant Wickham, she spent an entire week at Longbourn, helping to calm Mrs. Bennet and settle the girls. And I know that with the arrival of a bachelor at Netherfield, she worried that public interest in the scandal might be revived… if the new owner was to show undue interest in any of the Bennet sisters, that is.”
She shrugged. “We women are a strange lot and since so many of the young men in this area have gone off to war, there are few good marital prospects left and great deal of competition for the young men amongst the mothers of girls of marriageable age. I have seen a girl subjected to a lot of unpleasant gossip and criticism in this district, only because she attracted more than her fair share o
f male attention. Being so attractive, the Bennet girls would do that too; were they not isolated by their disgrace. My mother thinks that they need to continue to keep a low profile if they are ever to live down the scandal.”
Darcy looked down at the cup in his hand and fought to suppress the shock that had run through him on hearing Wickham’s name. The coincidence was unbelievable. Six months ago he had been so sure that he was finally done with the man. How was it that their paths crossed yet again? Then the habits of a lifetime kicked in and Darcy bent his mind to the problem of finding out what he could, without alerting Charlotte Lucas to his particular interest in the matter.
“I can understand your mother’s concern, Miss Lucas and you have my word that I will speak to Charles at the earliest opportunity; if she is not doing so at the moment. He was unfortunately out riding when I returned home from my walk this morning. But tell me, was there never any attempt to bring to justice the scoundrel who eloped with Miss Lydia?”
“An effort was made to trace the lieutenant. Even the Bow Street Runners were called in as it was suspected at the time that he had something to do with a robbery that took place at The Swan in town. Wickham was seen there, and we were told that articles of gentlemen’s clothing, a rather expensive, engraved gold fob-watch and a large amount of guineas in a leather pouch were discovered missing on the same day that he quit Meryton. He also left numerous debts behind him. But unfortunately the track went cold after he and Lydia disembarked the coach at an inn in London. He disappeared with her into the bowels of the city and although Mrs. Bennet’s brother, who lives there, made several attempts to find them, it all came to naught until Lydia herself contacted Mr. Gardiner a long time later.’