We Have Mary King to Thank – Part 6, by Jack Caldwell

Greetings, everyone. Jack Caldwell here. Thanks for all the well wishes. My family is safe here in Louisiana and we escaped the worst of the damage. Many did not. Keep the families that lost people, both here and in the Central Atlantic states, in your prayers. Lots of rebuilding to do

Thanks goes to my lovely Beta Babe, Debbie!

Part 5 may be found HERE.

Back to our story:

Part 6

ELIZABETH’S ATTENTION WAS ONLY partly on her packing as she continued to muse over Mr. Darcy’s conflicting words and actions and her own unsettled thoughts.

How? How could he still love me after my insults? And how is it I now cannot bear to harm him?

In Hertfordshire, the gentleman exhibited a superiority and reserve bordering on rudeness. He tended to haunt the walls and observe with a critical eye rather than converse with strangers. True, Mr. Darcy admitted he was uncomfortable in large crowds and only felt easy with those he knew well. But how was he to make friends—or even know who was worth knowing—if he did not exert himself to speak?

That brought to mind their quarrels at Netherfield. Except…were they really quarrels? Mr. Darcy did not think so, and he did seem to treat her arguments with some respect.

No, it was more than that, Elizabeth recognized. They had debates, and he respected her opinions as long as she could defend them. He spoke to her as he did to Mr. Bingley. Not as lightly, true, but they were friends of long standing, while she was a new acquaintance. Yet, he deliberated respectfully with her, just as did her father. Why had she not recognized that before?

Mr. Darcy was far more open at Rosings, as long as they were alone. The one exception was when she reproached him at the pianoforte. At the time, she hardly credited that he admitted his fault before his cousin. Elizabeth knew she would never do such a thing. The mortification! But Mr. Darcy took her light scolding in good grace.

She could not like a closed-mouthed man. But then, open and free speaking was in short supply at Rosings. Lady Catherine saw to that.

Mr. Darcy was wrong to separate Jane from Mr. Bingley. Who was he to decide who Mr. Bingley should marry? But she recalled her surprise and horror when she learned of Charlotte’s betrothal to Mr. Collins. It felt like a betrayal—not that she wanted Mr. Collins, but that she had completely misjudged Charlotte’s character. Had she been sure of success, she would have convinced her friend to jilt the pompous fool.

They both wanted to save their friends from unhappy marriages, but Elizabeth’s feelings were correct and Mr. Darcy’s wrong. Jane was no Mr. Collins!

“In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better show more affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly, but he may never do more than like her if she does not help him on.”

Yes, Charlotte had proven herself an oracle. Mr. Darcy did not see what Jane kept hidden.

“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Charlotte’s good advice was for gentlemen as well. Apparently, Mr. Darcy was an ill judge of ladies’ feelings—both Jane’s and hers.

Was I any better with gentlemen? She had been completely wrong about both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Foolish, foolish girl!

Which brought another thought. Would she have been kinder to Mr. Darcy had she known of his interest and struggles? Might she have discussed his proposal rather than reject it utterly? Perhaps … conditionally … accepted him?

No! No!

Possibly!

Loud footsteps in the hallway interrupted her turbulent thoughts. A moment later, Maria was in the room, followed closely by Charlotte.

“Elizabeth, I am coming with you!”

“No, you are not, Maria!”

“I am! I will not stay another hour in this house! How dare Mr. Collins say those wicked things about Elizabeth? Wanton behavior! Enticing gentleman! You know she is innocent!”

Charlotte was unsuccessful in taking her sister’s arm. “Of course she is. But you must understand. Lady Catherine—”

“Lady Catherine! That is another matter! She terrifies me!”

“She is just overwrought.”

“If not for Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth would have been thrown out in the dust of the road like a…a common trollop!”

“Maria!” both Elizabeth and Charlotte cried.

“It is true!” Maria jutted out her chin. “If Elizabeth leaves, then so do I!”

Elizabeth took Maria’s hands. “Do you truly wish to leave?”

Maria nodded and to her sister said, “I am sorry, Charlotte, but I am very frightened of Lady Catherine. What would happen to my reputation if she should say such things about me as she did to Elizabeth? Her good name is gone!” Maria waved her hands in her distress. “Mama said that our good name is as brittle as it is beautiful. I do not want to end up like poor Elizabeth. I want to marry someday!”

Elizabeth flinched. Was she ruined?

“Maria, listen to me,” Charlotte scolded. “Eliza’s reputation is undamaged. No one here takes any notice of what Lady Catherine says. You have no worries about Mr. Collins,” she said to forestall any challenge, “not after his talk with Mr. Darcy.”

Maria’s big brown eyes filled with unshed tears. “I-I still wish to go. I do not like it here any longer.”

Charlotte bowed her head in defeat. “Eliza, do you suppose Mr. Darcy would have an objection?”

Elizabeth hugged them both. “No, I do not think Mr. Darcy would be ungenerous.”

Maria smiled. “Then I shall pack my things!”

When she left the room, Elizabeth approached her friend.

Charlotte turned away. “I should help Maria.”

Elizabeth tried again, speaking to Charlotte’s back. “I am sorry I brought all this into your house.”

Charlotte did not turn. “You have nothing to apologize for. You should return to your packing. Mr. Darcy will be here soon and must not be kept waiting. I shall manage as I always have. Alone.”

Elizabeth choked back a sob as her friend slipped out the door.

~~~

Just as the church bell sounded the last peal of noon, Mr. Darcy’s carriage arrived at the parsonage. The footmen immediately began securing the trunks while Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam walked over to Mr. Collins and the ladies.

“I understand Miss Lucas will join you.” Mr. Darcy remarked to Elizabeth.

“My sister has expressed a desire to join my cousin on her journey,” answered Mrs. Collins. “That is, if it meets with your approval.”

“Of course, if that is her wish.”

“Oh, my good sir, I knew how it would be!” cried Mr. Collins. “Such condescension! It is quite the sacrifice for my dear sister to forgo the pleasures of Rosings Park! But, uh, as my most honored patroness—my honored former patroness, Lady Catharine de Bourgh, is indisposed, our usual intercourse with the gem of Kent is sadly suspended. It is hoped that matters will be brought to a happy resolution once your uncle, the esteemed earl, arrives.”

“It is to be hoped,” Colonel Fitzwilliam remarked, arms crossed and glaring at the rector.

Mr. Collins turned to Maria, ignoring Elizabeth. “I hope that you have not passed your time unpleasantly, and that you will report to our dear father the continuation of our superior situation! But who could not be when they live in the shadow of Rosings Park!”

Maria, restored to her usual timid demeanor, could not respond to this statement with more than, “Goodbye, Mr. Collins.” She then gave a more loving farewell to Charlotte.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth’s attention was captured by Mr. Darcy. He said hardly anything, his face grave, but his eyes were locked on hers.

Elizabeth, in her turmoil and weariness, tried to give voice to her conflicting sensibilities. “I must thank you for your unparalleled kindness, Mr. Darcy. It is unexpected and undeserved.”

“Pray do not thank me,” he softly responded. “I do not deserve gratitude for bestowing what is your due.”

“But sir, I deserve nothing from you.”

It was the wrong thing to say, for a pained Mr. Darcy replied, “Madam, you deserve everything from me. Would I have the right to give it. Instead, I must be satisfied that you will reach your loved ones in safety and comfort.”

In a louder voice, he said, “Allow me, Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas, to introduce your companion. Mrs. Foxworth is under-housekeeper at Rosings. She has agreed to travel to London with you.” A middle-aged woman smiled from the carriage window as she was presented. “Mrs. Foxworth will return to Rosings with the carriage on the morrow.”

Elizabeth longed to apologize again for harming Mr. Darcy, but Colonel Fitzwilliam’s approach forestalled her.

“It was a pleasure making your acquaintance.” He grinned as he observed his cousin. “I hope we meet again soon. I wish you a safe journey.”

Elizabeth steeled her features and was able to farewell Charlotte with composure. Her response was cool. Elizabeth was certain she had yet to be forgiven.

Elizabeth was handed into the carriage by Mr. Darcy. She hardly noted at the time he held her hand a fraction of a second longer than necessary. The door was shut, the colonel called out a command, and with a jolt, the ladies were off to London.

~~~

Elizabeth leaned back against the soft squabs. Mr. Darcy’s carriage was most comfortable. The passengers were hardly inconvenienced by the ruts in the road.

The only inconvenience in this vehicle was reserved for Mrs. Foxworth’s endless monologue on the excellence of its owner. If half her words were to be believed, no finer gentleman existed in the kingdom than Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Apparently, for years he spent the majority of his annual visits engaged in the welfare of the tenants, assuring payment to the tradesmen, and seeing to repairs to the roads. Nothing was done that he did not do himself.

“He is not like Lady Catherine, who is generous with advice and demands.” she assured her captive audience. “Not that her ladyship’s guidance is not excellent. It usually is. But Mr. Darcy takes responsibilities upon his shoulders. He acts rather than decrees.” She explained Mr. Darcy often accompanied the steward on his rounds, seeing for himself the condition of the plantation and the village, and speaking directly to the people.

“And if there is a roof to be thatched or a creek to be cleared, why the young gentleman makes certain it is done and done right, and praises the workers afterwards. There is not one of the tenants or servants but what will give him a good name. Some people call him proud, but I am sure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like the wild young men now-a-days, who think of nothing but themselves.”

Elizabeth could not dismiss such praise. There was certainly at this moment in her mind a gentler admiration towards Mr. Darcy than she had ever felt in the height of their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Foxworth was of no trifling nature. What praise was more valuable than that of an intelligent servant—especially one not his own? There could be no benefit to her giving the gentleman a most glowing character. It must be genuine and heartfelt.

As brother, landlord, and master, Elizabeth considered how many people’s happiness were under Mr. Darcy’s guardianship. Two estates, perhaps more, and he was not yet thirty! How much of pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow! How much of good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by Mrs. Foxworth was favorable to Mr. Darcy’s character, and as she traveled in his carriage, Elizabeth thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised before.

His kindness to her and his pain at their parting was something out of a novel. She would never forget it.

Darker thoughts intruded. Mr. Darcy convinced Mr. Bingley to give up Jane—it was there in his letter, kept safe in her reticule. Mr. Darcy censured her family, particularly her mother and youngest sisters. He found her beloved father deficient. While he was a gentleman and of her class, Mr. Darcy navigated the First Circles of London, while she, a mere country girl, had never been presented, never had a Season in town. How could Mr. Darcy expect to make a good marriage with so much between them?

Marriage? How could she even contemplate such an idea? She would never marry Mr. Darcy! She could never marry Mr. Darcy. She would not cry—she would not.

The travelers rested from their journey at The Bell in Bromley. Mr. Darcy’s kindness and forethought continued as they were expected by the innkeeper, tea was ready in a private room, and the bill was for their benefactor. Elizabeth should not have been surprised, but she was.

The roads were smoother as they approached London. Mrs. Foxworth’s praise of Mr. Darcy was finally exhausted, allowing the ladies to nap in luxury for a time. The lamplighters were out in force when they turned on Gracechurch Street. Minutes later, they stopped before the house of Mr. Edward Gardiner.

The housekeeper greeted Elizabeth before she knocked. “Good evening, Miss Elizabeth! You are expected. Pray come inside.”

Expected? Elizabeth could not credit the housekeeper’s meaning, but a moment later, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and Jane were in the hall with hugs and happy faces.

“My dear, dear niece,” cried her uncle, “how good to see you. And Miss Lucas, too! You made excellent time!” He glanced outdoors. “My, what an impressive carriage! It is no wonder you are before your time.”

“Oh! Mrs. Foxworth!” cried Elizabeth. “Our companion is still in the carriage. I must go and thank her.” Elizabeth and Mr. Gardiner stepped to the coach, and Mrs. Foxworth lowered the glass.

“Mrs. Foxworth,” said Elizabeth, “I must thank you for your trouble.”

“None of that, Miss,” the servant replied. “It has been a pleasure.”

“Will you not step inside and take your ease?” offered Mr. Gardiner.

“Thank you kindly, sir, but we are off to Darcy House once the trunks are down. Oh, I see all is done! Goodbye, Miss Bennet. My best to Miss Lucas and all your families!” She waved her handkerchief as the carriage lurched forward and rumbled into the gathering darkness.

Elizabeth began to return to the house when her uncle halted her progress. “This has been quite a day, Lizzy—expresses and coaches and unexpected guests. We must talk—but after dinner.” His expression was kind but firm.

Elizabeth reluctantly nodded.

Elizabeth is safe in London, but Uncle Gardiner seems to know something.
What was in that express?

Until next week, this has been the Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles.

It takes a real man to write historical romance, so let me tell you a story…