Despite the Circumstances Page 3

  “You have no reason to fear, Mother. I am well.”

  “I am glad to hear it, Lawrence. It is a mother’s job to worry about her child.” She winked at Elizabeth before turning to Juliana Lawson, Elizabeth’s dear friend and Lord Greyston’s betrothed. “Juliana, what was that lovely song we heard last night?”

  Juliana looked at first Elizabeth and then Lady Matlock. “While it may be a lovely song, the performance was lacking.” The ladies laughed.

  “Ah, but it is such a sweet love song, and our Lizzy is a very lucky girl to have it sung for her,” said Lady Matlock moving to stand at the open window, teacup in hand.

  “Does everyone know of this?” asked Lawrence.

  “Aye,” said his mother. “And we eagerly await Miss Elizabeth’s decision.”

  Lawrence sank back in his chair looking ashen.

  The small demanding hand of guilt tugged at Elizabeth’s heart. She leaned close to Lawrence and whispered. “Perhaps we should speak somewhere that is not so crowded?”

  Lawrence sighed in relief as he stood and offered a hand to Elizabeth. “Shall we take a tour of the gardens this morning, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “A lovely idea, my lord.” Elizabeth grabbed her bonnet and placed her hand lightly within his.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~

  Reaching the garden, Elizabeth managed to guide Lawrence to a bench which was within sight of the window occupied by Lady Matlock.

  Elizabeth smoothed her skirts and laid her bonnet on her lap. “I refused your offer last night.”

  “You refused? Last night? But, you… and they…” he stammered.

  “Your father and brother thought your discomfort would be diverting. They insisted I not inform you of my decision until this evening.”

  “They wished to see me uneasy for a full day?” Lawrence’s voice was tinged with anger.

  Elizabeth raised a teasing eyebrow. “The thought of marrying me makes you uneasy, my lord?”

  “Not the thought of marrying you, Lizzy.” Lawrence smiled at her sheepishly. “The thought of marrying anyone makes me uneasy. However, I will own the thought does not make me as uneasy now as it once did. As my mother keeps telling me, I am not getting any younger, and I have a duty to the title.” He shrugged. “And there are times, such as when I am rattling around Brantworth with only servants for companions or last night when faced with the obvious happiness of yet another friend who is to be married, I begin to feel quite lonely and wish for someone with whom to share my life.”

  “You considered me an alternative to being lonely?” Elizabeth spoke softly.

  “I suppose I did.” Lawrence took her hand. “A man could do worse than to take a beautiful, witty young lady with the most enchanting eyes as his bride.”

  Elizabeth blushed.

  Lawrence dropped his voice to almost a whisper. “Elizabeth, why did you refuse me?”

  Hearing the note of pain in his voice and wishing in some small way to comfort him, Elizabeth covered his hand with her free one. “You were foxed, my lord. Remember, Juliana and I were at Lord Greyston’s house party last summer. I know you accept ridiculous wagers when you are in such a state. It was my bonnet you wore as you walked the fence.”

  Lawrence winced in remembrance. “And if I had not been so far into my cups? Would you have still refused me?”

  Elizabeth gave his hand a squeeze. “Yes, my lord, I would have still refused because we would not suit. You will one day sit in the House of Lords, and you will need a wife who is happy to play her role within the ton. I am not that lady. I do not enjoy such society, and my ideas and opinions make me something of a bluestocking.”

  Lawrence sighed. “I will not lie, Elizabeth. There is a part of me that wishes you were that lady, but I know you are correct. We would not suit. We are friends, very good friends, and perhaps we would one day grow to care for each other as something more, but that is not what you deserve. You deserve to ardently love and be loved.” He gave her a weak smile.

  “And you deserve the same. You shall always be as close to me as I imagine a brother would be, but brothers and sisters should not marry.” She gave him a playful smile.

  Lawrence laughed. “Indeed, they should not.”

  “They may, however, enjoy a joke together?” The familiar sparkle of mischief danced in Elizabeth’s eyes.

  “Indeed, they may. What had you in mind?”

  “You will need to remove your coat and hat, my lord.”

  She beckoned to two servants who stood near the edge of the house as Lawrence laid his hat on the bench and shrugged out of his coat. He recognized the young man as Greyston’s gardener. The young woman he had seen working in the kitchen.

  “It seems,” explained Elizabeth, “your mother was rather displeased with the idea of allowing you to languish in uncertainty, and she and I have devised a plan to justly punish your tormentors. Jack and his wife, Ruth, are going to assist us with our plan.”

  Jack slipped into Lawrence’s coat and donned his hat while his wife tied on Elizabeth’s bonnet. Quickly, Elizabeth pulled Lawrence below the open window and behind a bush before Jack signaled to someone in the house.

  “Henry, Richard, come quickly!” Lawrence heard his mother calling his father and brother to the open window. “Look! Look at your son and Miss Elizabeth. In broad daylight, no less. He shall have to marry her now.” Lawrence laughed as he noted the young couple kissing quite passionately on the bench in the garden and listened to the expressions of disbelief which floated down from the window above.

  Elizabeth’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

  “Is no one going to stop them?” demanded Lord Matlock.

  “Lawrence. Elizabeth.” Lady Matlock called through the open window. “Well, calling to them does not seem to be working. You will have to go out there, my dear.”

  Lawrence and Elizabeth heard grumbling and stomping as Lord Matlock and Richard left the breakfast room.

  “You may show yourselves,” called Lady Matlock through the window. “I do believe, Elizabeth, we have made our point about who is best at playing tricks on poor unsuspecting men.” She laughed. “However, I will not always be on your side in these things if you continue to over indulge in spirits, Lawrence,” she warned. “I do hope you have felt some of the sting of this morning’s theatrics?”

  Lord Matlock and Richard halted on the path; their expressions slowly turned from incredulity to annoyance when they saw Lawrence and Elizabeth standing below the window. “What is going on here?” Lord Matlock roared as he looked between his son and wife.

  “I think Mother can explain,” said Lawrence. “Shall we finish our stroll, Elizabeth?” He gave a wave to his rather red-faced father and amused brother as he led Elizabeth down the path.

  “You know, my lord, marrying a viscount would have been a very advantageous match for me.”

  “And a very disadvantageous one for me—imagine the devious scheming you and my mother could do.”

  Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps, I should reconsider my answer, my lord.”

  “Oh, no,” said Lawrence. “You have given your answer, and I withdraw my suit. Your brilliant, mischievous mind shall belong to another, not me.”

  Chapter 1

  April 1811

  It had been a frustrating day. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Charles Bingley had set out from London just as the sun was creeping its way above the horizon. They had ridden hard ahead of the carriages that were bound for Netherfield. The servants would see to the unloading of their things as they paid a visit to the office of Bingley’s solicitor, Mr. Phillips.

  Darcy had been impressed with the knowledge and efficiency of Mr. Phillips; it was no wonder his uncle had recommended the man. Now after following that man’s directions which had them wandering in what seemed like circles in a woods somewhere in Hertfordshire, they had been directed by a kindly gentleman to seek shelter from the coming deluge at a cottage located somewhere in that same woods.

  The spitting rain had left muddy trails down Darcy’s great coat as it mixed with the road dirt. Keeping to the right branch of the road as the gentleman had instructed, Darcy found himself riding up a path toward a stone cottage. “I think this is the cottage,” said Darcy.

  “I do not see any other,” agreed Bingley.

  Darcy saw a young woman sitting beneath a structure made for storing firewood. Her bonnet hung down her back. She brushed a stray strand of hair the color of fine chocolate from her face with a gloved hand. Then she returned to the task of removing soil from her gardening tools. Darcy and Bingley dismounted and walked toward her.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~

  Elizabeth was intent on getting the dirt removed from her tools before storing them. Her father had given her a challenge, and she was determined not to fail. She batted at a curl that had, as was its wont, worked its way free of her pins and fallen into her face.

  The soft, dripping and dropping of the rain on the roof of the wood stand was relaxing. She was glad that she had gotten the last of the seedlings transferred to the flower garden—tucked under their protective blanket of straw before the rain began. She worked as quickly as she could, wishing to be inside the cottage before the rain started in earnest. She knew that the roof over her head and the wall that faced the prevailing winds would keep her dry while she worked, but she did not relish the thought of rushing through a downpour to reach the house. She would just bide her time in the wood stand if it were not for the fact that Jane and Mary were expecting her to help with dinner preparations. So deep in thought and so concentrated on the task at hand was she that she jumped when she heard his voice.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~

  “Good day,” called Darcy as he and Bingley approached her. The young woman jumped to her feet in surprise, a rake clattering to the ground. He halted a distance from her and said gently, “My apologies. I did not mean to startle you, ma’am. We were told that we might find refuge from the rain at Oxford Cottage.” He swept a hand toward the house. “Is this Oxford Cottage?”

  Elizabeth smiled. There was only one person who could have sent these men to her cottage. “Indeed, it is, sir. My sisters and I would be happy to provide shelter for you until the rain passes.” She retrieved the fallen rake and tucked it, along with her other tools, behind the wood pile against the structure’s one wall.

  “Your horses may take refuge here.” She indicated a rail where the horses could be tied; then, walking to the far end of the woodpile, she retrieved a pail of rain water.

  Darcy watched her offer the pail of water to each of the horses, stroking their necks and cooing to them softly. She was captivating; there was no way around the fact. His heart had lurched, actually lurched, inside his chest when she had smiled at him. Now, witnessing her tender care of his horse—his prize possession, the stallion that he had raised and trained from a colt—he was well and truly lost.

  “Allow me,” he said as he took the pail from her and carried it back outside the structure to collect more water.

  Her fingers brushed his briefly as she allowed him to take the pail from her. She shook and stretched her hand as she tried to stop the sudden tingling sensation that coursed through her fingers and up her arm.

  “If we wish to enter the cottage before the torrents begin, we need to hurry.” Snatching up the hem of her skirt slightly to avoid some of the mud, she walked quickly toward the cottage. Had she been alone, she would have raced, but since she was in the company of two gentlemen—two handsome gentlemen—she tried to maintain some modicum of propriety.

  Elizabeth called to her sisters as she took the gentlemen’s coats and hats and placed them near the fireplace in the sitting room. The rain had not been heavy, but their outerwear was damp and needed drying. Besides, it gave her an opportunity to study the gentlemen surreptitiously.

  There was something familiar about the man who had startled her. She felt as if she had seen him before. He was beautiful—tall with broad shoulders, dark hair that hung down around his ears and across his forehead, a face that was not youthful and yet not aged either, and his eyes, they were a piercing blue. Elizabeth was quite sure that she could spend many contented hours studying those eyes, as well as most everything else about him. Feeling a faint blush beginning to creep its way up her neck and towards her cheek, she turned her eyes away from him and examined his friend.

  The second gentleman was quite fine to look upon as well—slightly shorter and narrower of frame with golden hair that curled about in a rather haphazard array. He wore the expression of an exuberant youth although his face was not much younger in appearance than that of his friend. Her examination of this gentleman was interrupted by the entrance of Jane and Mary, although in reality, her attention had not been fully focused on him at all as her eyes had wandered more than once back to his much more temptingly handsome friend.

  Darcy watched the two young ladies enter the room. One was fair and classically handsome. The other was dark like the sister he had met by the woodpile but wore a more serious mien. He wondered to himself how one small cottage could contain such an abundance of beauty.

  Jane wiped her hands on her apron as she entered. “How does Mrs. Hill always manage to make the bread without wearing the flour,” she muttered. Noticing the visitors, her face flushed.

  “These gentlemen were told they could find shelter from the rain at Oxford Cottage,” Elizabeth explained. Darcy noticed the eyes of the other two young ladies grow large with understanding.

  Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled and a playful smile tugged at her mouth as she turned to the gentlemen. “Now that we are safely ensconced inside, perhaps we could proceed with introductions?”

  “Pray, forgive us,” said Darcy. “We have completely forgotten our manners, Bingley.”

  “Perhaps the rain washed them away,” quipped his friend. “I am Mr. Bingley recently of Netherfield, or at least, I will be once this rain stops, and I find my way there.” He laughed at his own folly.

  “And I am Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.” He noted a flash of recognition in the eyes of the young lady they had met outside. Should he recognize her? Or had she simply heard of his estate?

  “It is very good to meet you, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy.” Jane curtseyed. “I am Miss Bennet and these are my sisters, Elizabeth and Mary. Please, will you not be seated and take some tea with us?”

  “Bennet?” Darcy’s brow furrowed.

  “Yes, daughters of Thomas Bennet of Longbourn. I believe you met him?” Elizabeth took the teapot that Mary had brought into the room.

  Darcy looked at her and held her captivating eyes with his. She seemed to be enjoying his confusion. An eyebrow lifted challenging him to ask more questions. “Yes, we met him.” Darcy raised an eyebrow in return and accepted the cup of tea she offered him. He settled back into his chair as if the questions eating away at his sensibilities did not exist. He would play her game.

  “If he is of Longbourn, then why are you here at Oxford Cottage?” A small look of triumph crossed Elizabeth’s face at Bingley’s question.

  “Our father is a singular gentleman.” Mary placed a tray of biscuits on the tea table. “He has his very unique ways of seeing that his daughters are trained properly.”

  Again, Elizabeth raised a challenging eyebrow to Darcy daring him to ask. She watched as he fought his curiosity. Finally, she rolled her eyes and with a sigh, conceded him the point. “My father has no sons to send to Oxford, so he has created this, Oxford Cottage. He wishes to see if we have truly learned all we need to know to run a household. This month, we have been required to complete all the household tasks on our own. But, in six days’ time, our footman and maid, who currently serve for protection, chaperonage and correspondence between Longbourn and Oxford, will be allowed to assist us. While we are here, our two youngest sisters must take on our responsibilities at Longbourn.”

  “And how long does your father expect you to stay here?” Darcy was fascinated by the concept. It was a brilliant way to evaluate learning.

  “The plan is to remain through the summer until harvest. After that, we will be needed at home to help with the preservation of the harvest.” Jane sipped her tea occasionally glancing at Bingley.

  The door opened, and the kindly gentleman with the twinkling eyes that Darcy and Bingley had met in the woods walked in. He stopped by each of his daughters and kissed them on the cheek. Mary handed him a cup of tea, and he settled into the chair next to the fireplace—the one in which Elizabeth had been sitting. She pulled up a stool and sat at his side.

  “Elizabeth, have the flower beds been finished and the tools cleaned and stored?” He asked.

  “The seedlings are planted and the tools are cleaned, but I have not yet stored them due to the rain. They are protected in the wood stand for now.”

  Mr. Bennet patted his daughter’s knee. “Good, good. You have done well. Mary, are the dresses finished for the Finch girls?”

  “No, Papa. We plan to finish them this evening.”

  “The bread is rising, Papa. It shall be baked before we dine.” Jane answered before her father could question.

  “Have my daughters made you feel welcome, gentlemen?”

  “Their hospitality has been excellent,” said Darcy.

  “Have they explained what Oxford Cottage is?”

  “Yes, they have. I must say I find the concept to be fascinating, sir.”

  Mr. Bennet chuckled. “I pegged you for the studious type. It has yet to be seen if the experiment is successful.”

  “Do you expect us to fail?” Elizabeth asked indignantly.

  “My dear, I do not expect you to fail, but knowing that I have considered the possibility does invoke a greater urgency to succeed, does it not?” He again chuckled as his daughter narrowed her eyes.

  “Your experiment can only be considered a true success at the end, which means its success does not rest so much on us as it does on our younger sisters? How are things at Longbourn?” Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. Her father continued to chuckle.