Willow Hall Romance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Series Page 8

  Carefully, she unfolded the paper, but she did not read it. She did not need to. The words were clearly etched in her mind. She only took it out now, as she did so often, to look at the fine writing and think about the gentleman who had written it. She allowed her eyes to skim over the writing and then rest for a few moments on the signature. She touched his name reverently, tracing each letter, before refolding the letter and tucking it back into her pocket while chiding herself, as she did each time, about her stupidity in refusing such a man. If she could but go back… if she could choose her words again…but she could not. What had been said had been said, and words once spoken could not be withdrawn.

  She drew the right corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, looked across the meadow toward where she knew Pemberley to be, and sighed a small sigh of regret. Part of her wished to see it and perhaps chance upon its owner, while another part of her would like nothing better than to be much further away from any chance meeting with Mr. Darcy. For such a meeting, should it ever occur, was certain to be strained and would no doubt cause her greater pain by reminding her of exactly who it was she had so soundly refused. It was difficult enough to hear of him, as she had many times since her arrival at Willow Hall. Each time, she felt a further prick of her conscience. He was a good friend, a well-respected landlord, and a fair and just master. She had heard it all — many times.

  Slowly, reluctantly, she withdrew her hand from holding the letter in her pocket. Lucy Dobney had said Mr. Darcy might arrive before the summer’s end. Her husband, Philip, had insisted it would be much sooner. Again, a small glimmer of hope battled with an urge to flee at the thought. She shook her head attempting to clear her thinking. Her mind had been muddled with confusing and conflicting thoughts ever since the evening before she had received this letter — the night when he had declared himself to her. Regret once again crept into her mind. Perhaps if she had not been startled by his addresses. Perhaps if she had not heard of his part in separating her sister from Mr. Bingley. Perhaps if she had not had a headache. Perhaps then she would have replied in a kinder, more gentle fashion. She forced away the thoughts. What had been said, had been said. What was done, had been done. It would do no good to dwell on what might have been.

  She took one last look towards Pemberley and then broke the seal on the second letter. This letter held the promise of much happier thoughts. It was the first Elizabeth had received from Jane since arriving at Willow Hall. Anxiously, she read through the details of life at Longbourn — the calls that had been made, the new baby born to one of the tenants, Kitty’s sighing over the absent officers, and the delicacy of the flowers on the material her mother had chosen for a dress. Elizabeth’s eyes raced along, searching for the one thing for which she hoped. She smiled and clutched the letter to her chest when she found it. Jane would be arriving with the Gardiners in less than a fortnight! She knew, just knew, that a trip away from Hertfordshire to a land as beautiful as this was exactly what her sister needed to help heal her injured heart.

  “Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth opened her eyes to find Mr. Marcus Dobney standing above her. “Mr. Dobney,” she greeted and made to stand.

  “Please stay as you were. I shall join you for a moment if you do not mind.” He waited for her to give her consent before taking a seat on the grass near her. “I take it you have happy news?”

  “Oh, very.” She made no effort to contain her excitement. “My sister Jane is to come with my aunt and uncle.”

  Marcus removed his hat and placed it near Elizabeth’s. “So, our company is not enough to keep you entertained?” He affected a severe look that was somewhat ruined by the twinkle in his eye.

  She cocked a brow and gave him an impertinent smile. “Indeed, I find the populace to be quite dull.”

  “Is that so?” He laughed. “And here I thought you were enjoying your stay at Willow Hall. Mrs. Abbot will be disappointed to hear she has failed at being a hostess, and my sister will be greatly displeased to be thought of as anything less than engaging.”

  Elizabeth could not help the giggle that escaped her as she imagined Mary Ellen Dobney’s displeasure. Miss Dobney was not reserved, and often her emotions were evident to all — even when she attempted to contain them. “I cannot keep up such a charade, sir. It is precisely because I find this place to be so lovely that I am delighted to be able to share it with Jane.”

  “A fine response,” he said and then, leaning a bit closer to her, continued in a loud whisper, “I shall not inform my sister or your hostess of their supposed failings.”

  She gave a quick bow of her head. “I thank you, kind sir.” She looked toward the stream where the picnic blanket was spread out on a flat stretch of grass. “You have not come to tell me it is time to depart already, have you?”

  “Ah, so you do enjoy the country, do you?”

  “I do.”

  “Then you are in luck. Mr. Harker will not hear of leaving for another half hour at least. He insists that the air will do him and us much more good than sitting about chatting in the house, and I am inclined to agree. My sister insists that some exercise in the form of a walk be taken and has sent me to retrieve you.” He took up his hat and rose.

  “A lovely idea. I am very fond of walking,” said Elizabeth as she folded Jane’s letter and tucked it next to the one that was already in her pocket. She cast a sidelong look at Marcus and considered him for a moment while putting on her bonnet. He was handsome, his manners were pleasing, and his fortune was not without merit. He would be an excellent match — her heart sighed — for someone. As pleasant as he was, she found him of no greater interest than she had found Mr. Bingley. “Oh,” she said as, while rising to her feet, a thought overtook her.

  “Is there a problem, Miss Bennet?” Marcus looked at her in concern. “You did not wrench an ankle, did you?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I am perfectly well. I was merely thinking about my sister.” She placed her hand on the arm he offered. Marcus may not be what she wished for in a husband, but she would not be opposed to having him for a brother.

  “I suppose it is far too impertinent of me to ask of what in particular you were thinking?” He smiled down at her as they walked.

  “Too impertinent and a trifle ungentlemanly,” she answered with a small laugh.

  He gave an accepting nod. “Yes, to my father’s chagrin, I have always struggled with being more curious and forward than a proper gentleman should be. And my sister will attest to my tendency toward ungentlemanly behaviour.” He smiled. “But she is my sister, and, therefore, I am somewhat exempt.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Then, Mr. Dobney, we are much alike, but I shall not admit to unladylike behaviour, for foibles in decorum are more readily dismissed for gentlemen than they are for ladies. However, I will concede that my mother has scolded me on more than one occasion for not holding my tongue.” Her brows furrowed for a brief moment. “There was some wisdom in what she said, of course. A quick tongue has the potential to cause irreparable damage.” Without thought, her free hand slid inside her pocket and rested against Mr. Darcy’s well-worn and much read letter.

  “So it does.” Marcus’ agreement was so soft she barely heard it, and when she glanced at him, he was staring ahead with a pensive look on his face.

  “Shall I assuage some of your curiosity by telling you about Jane?” She watched as the corners of his mouth turned up once again and his gaze became less focused, and for a moment, she wished to ask him of what he had been thinking. But having just informed him that such questions were too impertinent, she thought it best to hold her tongue.

  “A delightful idea,” he replied, “but perhaps we should wait until we have joined the others.”

  Since they had nearly reached the group, she agreed.

  “Have you had good news?” Cecily Abbot, a lady of about seven and twenty, delighted in having her home filled with people, especially when those people were young ladies she counted as dear friends and
relations. She had been anxiously awaiting Elizabeth’s reading of the missive. She had speculated about its contents several times since they had left Willow Hall. She was most pleased to have been late in departing, due to an issue with one of her children, for if they had left exactly as they had planned, Elizabeth would not have received the letter until she returned. And such a letter could not be held until later, for it must contain good news.

  Elizabeth held out the letter to Cecily. “Yes, it is very good news. Jane shall be travelling with my aunt and uncle.” Elizabeth could not help how large her smile grew at declaring such news. It had been lovely of her aunt and uncle to allow her to travel ahead of them when their plans had been altered due to the business at Mr. Gardiner’s warehouse increasing and needing his attentions, but she truly did miss Jane.

  Mrs. Abbot clapped her hands and accepted the letter, unfolding it to see the good news with her own eyes. “So a week this Thursday?” There was no mistaking the excitement in her voice. “We shall both have our dearest older sisters to keep us company.” She read the letter quickly, exclaiming here and there about some bit of news that the others might enjoy. Then, returning the letter to Elizabeth, she rose from the blanket so that she could join the others on their walk. “Oh, my. You shall all love Jane as dearly as I do, I am sure,” she said to the group. “Am I not correct, Lizzy?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I am rather partial to Jane, so my agreement benefits you little.”

  “Miss Bennet has promised to tell us all of her sister as we walk,” said Marcus. “Perhaps you could assist her, Mrs. Abbot.”

  “A wonderful idea, Mr. Dobney. I like nothing better than to speak of my favourite people.” She turned to Elizabeth. “I am sure that Mrs. Dobney and Mr. Phillip Dobney grew tired of hearing your name as I waited for your arrival.” She looked expectantly at her husband, a man six years her senior, who was still lounging on the blanket. “Surely, Mr. Abbot, you are not going to allow me to go away without your company?”

  “As shocking as it may be, I think I shall remain here with Mr. Harker.” Harold Abbot stretched out his long legs and rested back on his elbows, as he winked at his wife and added, “I will miss you dearly, you know.”

  “Without a doubt,” she replied with a smile.

  Elizabeth loved the repartee between Mr. and Mrs. Abbot. They were so very comfortable with each other and those around them. They easily fell into friendship with those they met, and once having fallen into a friendship, they embraced their friends as family — whether they were friends of one day or many years. Such was their attentiveness to their friends that notes would be sent, gifts given, and help extended before so much as a mention of need was spoken. To be honest, it was a skill Elizabeth envied, for although she got on well with most people she met, her disposition was more prone to judge and criticize than to accept.

  “You can link arms with me, Mrs. Abbot,” said Mary Ellen. “That is if Miss Bennet is content to remain in my brother’s care.”

  There was a bit of a mischievous glint to Mary Ellen’s eye and a playful flick of her eyebrow that caused Elizabeth to worry. It was the same as she had seen on more than one occasion when her mother was playing at matchmaking.

  “If I had not promised to tell Mr. Dobney of Jane, I should insist upon Mrs. Abbot taking my place.” And truly she would have dropped Marcus’s arm and insisted Cecily take her place if it had not been for that promise.

  “I do not know whether to be flattered or wounded,” muttered Marcus.

  “Wounded,” said his brother, giving Marcus’s arm a playful swat.

  Elizabeth’s face grew rosy. She had not meant for the comment to be anything other than a discouragement to Mary Ellen’s scheming.

  “Philip,” said Lucy softly. “I believe you are making Miss Bennet feel uneasy, and Mary Ellen.” She said no more but gave her friend a stern look.

  “Forgive me,” said Mary Ellen. “I should not have teased.”

  “Indeed,” said her eldest brother. “Mary Ellen is as much a trial to my father as I am at times when it comes to minding our tongues, but we cannot all be as good as Philip.”

  “I find I am in agreement with you, Marcus,” said Lucy, smiling and leaning into her husband’s side just a bit more.

  The comment sent a chuckle around the group as they set off on what would be a very lovely half hour.

  Chapter 2

  The Dobney’s barouche was the first to arrive at Willow Hall. As they turned into the small circular drive, Elizabeth noted, before her view was obscured, that a fine carriage stood in front of the house. She must not have been the only one to have noticed the carriage, for she heard the hastening of horses from behind them.

  “I see the Abbots have a new guest,” said Mr. Dobney with a smile.

  “Oh, so they have.” Mary Ellen waved to whoever was behind their carriage as the horses came to a stop. “Philip and Lucy will be pleased.”

  Elizabeth wished to turn about and look to see who this newcomer was but did not wish to appear unladylike and so she sat, waiting until Mr. Dobney would hand her out of the carriage after his sister.

  “I had not expected to see you for another month complete.” Elizabeth could hear Mary Ellen greeting the visitor as she placed her hand in Marcus’s and began descending the steps.

  “I had not expected to return, but Georgiana was homesick for Pemberley, and so I indulged her.”

  Elizabeth’s step faltered, and she stumbled slightly as her mind flew toward the voice and away from its job of helping her feet reach the ground gracefully. Her heart beat wildly inside her chest. He was here, standing just out of sight behind the raised canopy of the carriage.

  “Are you well, Miss Bennet?” Marcus asked in concern.

  “I am, thank you. It was just a small misstep.” She flashed him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Her body felt strangely numb while her mind seemed to be running in circles. She did not even notice how Marcus, who was still looking at her in concern, tucked her hand into the crook of his arm to ensure her safety. She was far too busy contemplating the man on the other side of the carriage and attempting to listen to the conversation.

  “Oh, that is the best news,” Mary Ellen was saying. “She will have to call on us all as soon as she is settled — and you may accompany her if you wish.”

  There was a small masculine chuckle of amusement in response to the comment, and Elizabeth nearly stumbled a second time. It was a pleasant sound and one she had not heard before. The Mr. Darcy she knew had not once appeared amused. He had been so serious and very ill at ease. But here, she noted as she stepped out from behind the carriage, he appeared to be quite the opposite. Here, he was smiling and relaxed.

  “I had anticipated calling on your brothers at least once before returning to my party in London. They will be travelling with me to Pemberley when –” He stopped speaking as Elizabeth approached. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said in surprise.

  Philip, who had also approached at just that moment, noted the slight stiffening of his friend’s posture and the way he fidgeted with his hat as he greeted the Abbots’ guest. Shifting his eyes to Elizabeth, he smiled. So that is how it was, was it? Her cheeks were quite rosy, and her eyes were demurely lowered as if afraid to look at the man in front of her.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she said with as much of a curtsey as one could make when her hand was being held by a gentleman. Her eyes grew wide at the thought, and she tugged her hand away from Marcus as gently as she could. “Thank you, sir,” she said softly. “I believe I have recovered.”

  “You are unwell?” Darcy, without thinking, took a step toward her.

  “I merely stumbled, Mr. Darcy.” She once again attempted to smile reassuringly.

  “You did not injure yourself?” Darcy barely held his place. His every instinct wished to see to her safety, but, he reminded himself, he had not been granted that privilege.

  It was as she had feared. The meeting was uncomfortable and with an audience
, which made it even more strained. “I am well. It was just a momentary lapse in grace. Fortunately, Mr. Dobney was there to prevent any injury.”

  Darcy suddenly became aware of the man standing next to Elizabeth. “Marcus,” he acknowledged with a nod. The same feelings he had endured when Elizabeth had laughed and talked with his cousin at Rosings, rose within him. Darcy attempted to remind himself that she had refused him, that he had removed her from his heart, but his heart was not listening. Instead, it was demanding that he remove Marcus Dobney from his place at Elizabeth’s side. Of course, he would not do such a thing; he had no right or reason for such an action. Again he attempted to remind his heart that it had been rejected.

  Philip bit his lip to keep from chuckling and pulled his wife a bit closer to his side as he watched Darcy fight to control himself. “Mary Ellen must cease all attempts to match Marcus with Miss Bennet, or I fear,” he whispered, “he and Darcy will be coming to blows.”

  Lucy, who had also been watching the meeting, looked at her husband, a slight smile tipped the corners of her mouth up showing her delight. “I believe you are right,” she whispered in agreement. Then she tipped her head toward Darcy. “You might wish to greet him. It may be the distraction he needs.”

  Philip winked at her and followed her suggestion. “Darcy, it is a delight to see you.” He waited patiently for the gentleman to acknowledge him.

  Slowly, Darcy turned toward him, a smile spreading across his face. “Ah, Philip, Mrs. Dobney.”

  “Lucy,” Lucy corrected, “we are among friends. Will you be with us long?”

  A short conversation about Georgiana and some estate matters followed this, and Elizabeth was glad for the moment to compose herself. He had greeted her so kindly. Perhaps, she had not completely lost his good opinion. The thought both caused her heart to hurt and flutter in the same rapid beat.