In the Wilds of Derbyshire Page 6

  “Then your sister Jane has been fortunate.”

  A pang of regret pierced Elizabeth’s heart at the thought of Jane. She had attempted to avoid thoughts of her sister in the days since she had come to Kingsdown, but the thought of her was still enough to fill Elizabeth with sorrow at the distance which had sprung up between them.

  But this was not something she would share with her young cousin. It was far too private for that.

  “She has, indeed,” replied Elizabeth. “She is doubly fortunate because Mr. Bingley is such a good man, and he positively dotes on her. I very much wish for the same myself.”

  “Then I shall hope for the same,” declared Olivia. “My brother will say I am foolish to harbor such wishes, but I do not care.”

  “If it if foolish to have dreams, then I prefer to be a fool,” said Elizabeth. “It is our dreams which allow us to have hope in the future. Life is very dull without them.”

  Olivia agreed, and they turned their attention back to their practice. Their developing closeness was a source of pleasure for Elizabeth. In some small way, Elizabeth thought her closeness with Olivia was filling the hole left in her heart by Jane’s defection.

  The time soon came for Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn, for, as he put it himself: “I do not know what Kitty and Lydia have got up to in my absence, and I cannot count on your mother to limit their behavior to any great extent.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I would prefer you take them in hand yourself, Papa. They will ruin us all if they are not checked.”

  “Perhaps you are correct, Lizzy. But can you imagine the commotion which would ensue if we were to restrict Lydia’s fun?”

  “It would undoubtedly be unpleasant,” said Elizabeth, not giving an inch. “But if they ruin us all, then none of us will ever make a good marriage.”

  “But would it not be amusing to see Miss Bingley’s reaction to it?” chortled Mr. Bennet. “I imagined Miss High-and-Mighty would be taken down a notch or two if our family was embroiled in scandal.”

  All Elizabeth could do was shake her head. She knew that Mr. Bennet had no more desire for scandal than Elizabeth did herself, but he loathed noise in his house, and the quickest way to disturb whatever peace he possessed would be to restrict Lydia. He would hear it not only from his two youngest daughters, but also, undoubtedly, from his wife. Given Elizabeth’s conversation with her mother before her departure, she wondered if her mother might not be brought to see reason. Either way, there was nothing she could do about it at present.

  “Regardless, I did not wish to speak of Lydia,” said her father. “I wished to discover how you have found your stay in this house, Lizzy.”

  “It is different from Longbourn, to be sure,” said Elizabeth. “But I like Olivia very much, indeed, and Leah is a dear, sweet girl. The younger boys are prone to mischief, the same as all such boys, but they are good lads, I dare say. My uncle is all that is kind and attentive, and I could not be happier with him.”

  “You do not mention your aunt and her eldest son,” observed Mr. Bennet.

  Elizabeth sighed. “My aunt is difficult, as I am sure you know.”

  “I do.”

  “It seems to be best to simply avoid her,” said Elizabeth. “As for Edward, I hardly know what to make of him, as he rarely ventures an opinion of his own. Underneath his reticence, however, I sense a hint of the same discontent which rules his mother’s life.”

  With a nod, Mr. Bennet said: “I knew you would notice it. Edward has said little to me either, but I have also seen his discontent.”

  It did not signify, so Elizabeth only shrugged. “The rest of the family is delightful, so I confine my attentions to those who wish to be pleased. It is clear that my aunt and eldest cousin do not wish it, so while I will return civility for civility, I believe I will be content with Olivia and those who do wish it.”

  Mr. Bennet watched her for several moments, apparently considering something, before he spoke again. “Lizzy, I do not wish you to be in circumstances you find uncomfortable. If you would prefer not to stay, we will make our excuses and return to Hertfordshire.”

  “I believe I have already committed to staying, Papa,” said Elizabeth quietly.

  “That commitment may be broken,” was her father’s short reply. He sighed and was silent for a moment before he spoke. “There are many things about your aunt that you do not understand, Lizzy, and I have been loath to inform you of them, as I wished you to form your own opinion of her without my interference.”

  “Then you know why she is so bitter?”

  A grimace was preceded by Mr. Bennet’s softly spoken: “I know of the genesis of it, yes. As you are aware, I have not met with my sister in many years, though I do correspond with your uncle. I had not realized that she had become so . . . openly dissatisfied. The last time I was in her company, I knew she was discontented, but she was accustomed to hiding it behind a façade. Much has changed since then.”

  “She seems to have some specific grudge.”

  “Toward me,” said her father with a nod. “She was happy and bright as a child. I would never have thought she would end this way, no more than I would have thought she would transfer her animosity to one of my children.”

  “I will be well, Papa,” said Elizabeth. This talk of her aunt had caused her to hesitate, but it somehow felt right that she would stay here for a time. Perhaps in helping Olivia, Elizabeth could somehow help her aunt to become more contented in her life. Elizabeth almost laughed at the absurdity of such an arrogant thought, but there it was. Either way, she would not be chased away by a bitter woman.

  “Are you certain?”

  Elizabeth turned a fond smile on her father. He could be considered lackadaisical and indifferent at times, and he had a disturbing tendency to laugh at the actions of his daughters and wife, but he was always quick to defend them at any sign of trouble, especially Elizabeth, who was his favorite. She had always tried, with a healthy measure of philosophy, to appreciate his good qualities.

  “I am,” replied Elizabeth, with growing conviction. “I am certain that I will have my uncle to turn to, should my aunt become difficult, and I am very fond of Olivia and Leah already. I am content with my decision to stay here, Papa.”

  Mr. Bennet looked on her fondly. “You are determined, Lizzy. It has always been my opinion that is one of your best qualities. I will inform your uncle. I am certain he will be happy with your decision.”

  The next day, Mr. Bennet boarded his carriage and began the long journey back to Longbourn. She had not told him, but part of her decision to stay in Derbyshire was due to the desire to avoid Jane’s continued distance—she already felt happier here in her uncle’s house, felt like she had some purpose other than the trivial, dreary concerns she had felt eating away at her patience when she was in her home. Elizabeth still looked on the prospect of finding a husband in Derbyshire with more than a little skepticism, but she decided she would not make herself unhappy about it either.

  Though Elizabeth might have thought that her father’s departure would have released all her aunt’s unpleasantness with cutting words and little insults, in fact the opposite was true. Her brother’s departure seemed to settle Mrs. Drummond, and though she was no more amiable or kind to Elizabeth—or even to her own family—Elizabeth witnessed less of the overt hostility which had been such a large part of her interactions before.

  It happened not a day after her father’s departure that Elizabeth was given the first glimpse of the society of Derbyshire. There were no events for them to attend yet, but on a day when the sun was shining, Mr. Drummond had a visitor come to the house, and Elizabeth saw the man of whom she had heard so much, though they did not exchange words.

  Having stepped outside to enjoy a short constitutional around the grounds, Elizabeth and Olivia had completed a circuit of the back lawn and come around the house to see a young man dismounting from a large grey stallion.

 
“Darcy!” they heard Mr. Drummond’s voice as he exited the house. “How are you today, young man?”

  “Very well, thank you,” said Mr. Darcy in response. He stepped toward Mr. Drummond and the two men shook hands. “I have come to discuss the fence at our border.”

  “Of course. If you will wait for a moment, I will have my horse brought around and we can go there directly.”

  With a bow, Mr. Drummond moved toward the stables to the side of his house to retrieve his horse and Mr. Darcy stood there for a moment waiting for him. As he had not noticed Elizabeth and Olivia, Elizabeth was able to take her first impression of him, and she was not at all disappointed. He was tall and lean, with wavy dark hair which settled over his forehead and tickled the collar of his jacket. His clothes seemed to be of fine quality, though they were not ostentatious, consisting of pants, shirt, waistcoat, and jacket, clearly made for riding. He also wore a leather overcoat, unfastened in the front, which undulated around his legs in the breeze. His boots were black and shiny, and Elizabeth though the man’s valet must have polished them until they gleamed.

  In all, Elizabeth thought he was the most perfect specimen of masculinity that she had ever seen. Even Mr. Bingley, who Elizabeth had acknowledged to Jane several times was well-favored, was nothing to Mr. Darcy.

  “Is he not frightfully handsome, Lizzy?” asked Olivia by her side.

  “I dare say he is,” replied Elizabeth. “This is not the first time you have seen him?”

  Olivia shook her head. “He comes to speak with my father on occasion, and I have seen him in Lambton. I care not what Mama says, but Mr. Darcy has never displayed a proud or haughty manner to me or my father.”

  Elizabeth was forced to agree with her cousin. Mr. Darcy, though he stood with seeming unconcern, did not give a hint of distaste in his surroundings; in fact, as he glanced about, it seemed to be with interest, rather than pride or disapproval. By contrast, on the occasions when Mr. Bingley had forced his sister to come to Longbourn, the woman’s thinly concealed contempt had been plain for all to see, and she had much less reason to be proud than Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth was certain.

  He seemed to become aware of them, and he smiled and tipped his hat, and Elizabeth and Olivia responded by curtseying in his direction. But Mr. Drummond led his horse out at that moment and the two men rode away.

  “I think a woman would give much to be the subject of Mr. Darcy’s attentions,” said Olivia.

  “Do not allow such nonsensical thoughts into your head, girl!”

  The sound of the loud voice close behind them startled both girls, and they jumped in unison. Behind them stood Mrs. Drummond, arms akimbo, glaring at them.

  “The likes of Mr. Darcy do not pay attention to the likes of you, Olivia.” Then Mrs. Drummond turned to Elizabeth. “My husband has decreed that you are here to teach my daughter to be a lady.” Mrs. Drummond’s scoffing tone instantly put Elizabeth’s back up. “But I will thank you not to fill her head with such nonsense.”

  “Elizabeth said no such thing, Mama,” cried Olivia, her manner screaming her defiance. “I only said that Mr. Darcy was handsome and that it would be pleasant to receive his attentions.”

  While Elizabeth would have thought Olivia’s rebellious words would earn her mother’s ire, Mrs. Drummond only shot them a sneer and turned away. A moment later, she was gone, leaving Elizabeth and Olivia to themselves yet again.

  “I hate her!” cried Olivia, and though her voice was quiet, there was no lack of fervency in it.

  “Olivia!” admonished Elizabeth. “You should not say such things about your mother.”

  “But I do,” averred Olivia. “She is malicious, she treats my father with contemptuous ridicule, and she is so mean-spirited that Leah is afraid of her.”

  “But she is your mother, and you must respect her as such,” said Elizabeth. “Come, let us go into the house. I believe a little time in more sedentary pursuits would do us both a world of good.”

  Though Olivia still glared with mutinous disgust after her mother, she allowed Elizabeth to persuade her into the house. Elizabeth was glad that her cousin had already started to defer to her; she would clearly have some work to do to keep the peace between mother and daughter.

  Chapter V

  Elizabeth Bennet considered herself something of an expert on the subject of difficult relationships with a mother. As far back as Elizabeth could remember, Mrs. Bennet’s attention had been fixed on Jane and, later, Lydia. Jane was the eldest, the most beautiful, the sweetest, and Lydia was the liveliest, the most liked in company. Mrs. Bennet had lived with the entail for so long that she had hung her hopes on Jane, the most beautiful daughter, and loved Lydia because she was so like her in essentials.

  As the second daughter, Elizabeth had never quite measured up to Jane in Mrs. Bennet’s opinion. She was not as beautiful, she insisted upon unfashionable activities such as walking and reading, and she was far too intelligent and outspoken—the latter being the greater sin—for any man to look upon her with any serious consideration.

  Though she had never resented Jane for being the focus of Mrs. Bennet’s hopes, Elizabeth had not missed the times her mother disparaged her or voiced her despair that Elizabeth would ever find a husband. At times, her mother’s words had hurt. At times, she had wondered how she could ever measure up to her elder sister. At times, she had wondered what she had done to earn her mother’s scorn.

  It was a matter of supreme irony that Mary, a child even more ignored by her mother than Elizabeth, should have been the one to save the family from the entail. And with Jane’s defection, it appeared like Mrs. Bennet would be forced to rely on Mary’s generosity and sense of duty to keep her housed and clothed should her husband pass away first. Elizabeth’s improved relationship with her mother in the days before she left was welcome, but she did not forget what it was like when Mrs. Bennet’s approbation was withheld.

  In the days after her father left, Elizabeth observed the Drummond family, and to a large degree, she realized that Olivia had been correct when she had made her comments concerning her mother. Elizabeth had never met such a bitter and sometimes mean-spirited woman as Mrs. Drummond. She largely ignored all the children, and when she did speak to them, it was to snap at them for some perceived wrong or to berate them for only she knew what.

  What was more heartbreaking was the fact that Mr. Drummond was not insensible to his wife’s behavior, but he presented the image of a man who had long despaired of changing it to any degree. When she spoke to his children in that sharp voice of hers, he would make a comment to her, inducing her to silence—and not a little sullenness—and she would be silent for a time, only for the scene to play out again at a later time.

  The children had varied methods of dealing with Mrs. Drummond’s ill humors. The eldest, Edward, strangely escaped being a target of her vitriol. They were not precisely close that Elizabeth could see, but when she spoke with him it was with a softer tone, while he replied with respect, but with evident distance. Olivia glowered at her mother when she spoke—and when she was not looking—but she seemed to ignore everything the woman said. The two younger boys simply shrugged her off and looked to their father.

  But in Leah, Elizabeth saw the truth of what Olivia had told her—the youngest child was afraid of her mother. Her propensity for clinging to Olivia’s legs was born of her fear of Mrs. Drummond, not shyness, and Elizabeth began to see that Mrs. Drummond resented the child, though she could not understand why that should be. There was very little interaction between them, other than a curt word from the matron on occasion, and Leah normally stuck close to her father and her eldest sister. That seemed to suit Mrs. Drummond quite well, as she rarely went out of her way to do anything other than sneer at her youngest.

  The situation in the house was trying on them all, and they all had various ways of relieving that tension. Mr. Drummond and his sons spent time out of doors, working in the fields or stables. Mr. Drummond w
ould often ride the grounds with his sons, so they were able to escape for much of the day. Olivia and Leah, however, were often bound to the house where there was no escape. Thus, Elizabeth began to devise some means by which they could be away, at least for a little while.

  “I believe that we should go on a picnic today,” said Elizabeth, one morning a few days after her father had departed. Mr. Drummond was present, and by now Elizabeth had learned that she should make such suggestions in his presence, as Mrs. Drummond would invariably object. “Do you know of any good locations we could use?”

  Olivia shot her mother a hesitant look, but Mr. Drummond immediately spoke his approval for the scheme. “And excellent idea. Perhaps the hill on the norther border would be a good location?”

  “Oh, yes, that would be lovely,” replied Olivia. “It has a good view out on Mr. Darcy’s lands.”

  While Olivia was speaking, Elizabeth noted her uncle watching his wife, as if daring her to protest. Mrs. Drummond grimaced at the mention of the Darcys, but she did not protest, contenting herself with a grunted: “As long as your responsibilities are completed in advance.”

  “Of course, Aunt,” said Elizabeth.

  When everything had been prepared, the three girls, with a basket in hand, filled with simple fare obtained from the cook, set out toward the hill. Elizabeth had not yet walked out in this direction from the farm, and she was anticipating the new sights which awaited her. The ground to the north was rockier, with strands of alder and beech, intermixed with gorse and other low standing bushes. To the west of them some little distance, a creek bubbled and gurgled on its way to its meeting with a larger waterway, which Olivia informed her lay some distance away near the house at Pemberley.

  Soon they were climbing the small hill, and when they crested it, the valley spread out in front of them, moving down through the ever-present trees to the cultivated farmland below. At the top of the hill there were a few tall trees which provided a little shade from the sun, and it was next to these trees that they lay down their blanket, removed their bonnets, and began to eat their meal.