In the Wilds of Derbyshire Page 7

  “The land to the north all belongs to Pemberley?” asked Elizabeth as she took a bite of her cool cucumber sandwich.

  “It does,” said Olivia. Between the two young women, Leah sat with her own sandwich. The girl was quiet and focused on her meal, but though she did not speak much, Elizabeth was of the impression that very little escaped her notice.

  “How far distant is the house?”

  “I have never been there myself,” confessed Olivia. “But Papa says that it is some five or six miles from our house to Pemberley manor. I understand that it is down in the valley,” Olivia waved her hand toward the gently sloping land, “but it is off to the left, behind some of those trees, and therefore not visible from here.”

  The girls were silent for some moments, concentrating on their meal, when Olivia once again spoke, saying: “Papa says that our land used to extend down into the valley.”

  “Truly?” asked Elizabeth.

  Olivia nodded. “I do not know the whole of the story, but Kingsdown was once a larger and more prosperous estate. Hard times came upon my ancestors, and slowly the estate was reduced to what it is now. That land to the north was sold to Pemberley to help keep the estate solvent, and other tracts in other locations were sold as well.”

  “That would explain why the house is much larger than an estate of this size would usually support.”

  “It does,” agreed Olivia. “You have not been to the servants’ quarters. Much of it is unused, with only the two maids and the two hands to live in it. And many of the rooms in the main part of the house, especially above stairs, are closed.” Olivia paused and then directed an apologetic look at Elizabeth. “Before your coming, your room and your father’s rooms needed to be cleaned, as they had not been used in many years. We keep the dust from building up and the maids will go in and beat the mattresses to keep them from rotting. Mama was not pleased the work had to be done. I think she prefers to forget about all the extra rooms we do not use.”

  With the greatest of care, mindful of not hurting her cousin’s relationship with her mother any further, Elizabeth said: “Olivia, do you know where your mother’s bitterness originates?”

  A shadow settled over Olivia. “She has always been like that.” Olivia’s tone was dead and allowed for no dispute. “Ever since I can remember she has been angry. I try to stay away from her as much as I can.”

  “Mama is always angry,” added Leah, pressing herself into Olivia’s side. “She does not like us.”

  Elizabeth’s heart melted at the girl’s solemn surety of her mother’s indifference. “I have not known her for long, but she may surprise you someday. I am certain she loves you, as any mother would love their child.”

  The open skepticism of the younger girl broke Elizabeth’s heart, but though Olivia scowled, she seemed to understand that it was best to stay silent and say nothing. It seemed like the subject of their mother was best left alone, so Elizabeth began speaking of her own family, relating some anecdotes of her own childhood in Hertfordshire.

  ‘You climbed a tree?” asked Olivia with shock when Elizabeth mentioned one of the more infamous stories from her childhood.

  “When I was younger, I often could be found in the branches of a tree.” Elizabeth paused and laughed. “Or rather, I took great care not to be found, for my mother would surely be overcome with paroxysms, should she find me in so unladylike a position.”

  “But this time you were not careful?”

  “The kitten was stuck in the tree,” said Elizabeth with a shrug. “I could hardly allow it to languish there and perhaps injure itself attempting to climb down.”

  “Could your father not have ascended with a ladder to rescue it?”

  “That is what Papa said. But at the time—and you must remember I was naught but seven years of age—I thought I was the creature’s last hope, so I climbed up to retrieve it.”

  “Can I assume your mother found you?”

  With a rueful nod of her head, Elizabeth said: “You must understand that my mother has little love for nature. I was far enough away from the house that I was certain I was safe from her prying eyes. Unfortunately, she chose the moment when I was reaching out for the kitten to scream at me.”

  Olivia winced, no doubt thinking of the times her own mother had raised her voice. “Did you fall?”

  “No, but it was a near thing. When I had balanced myself, I glared down at my mother, displaying my most imperious expression and said: ‘Do not disturb me, Mama. The fate of the kitten is at stake.’”

  By now both of her cousins were laughing at her description, Olivia in genuine amusement, while Leah looked on with no little awe.

  “Once I retrieved my precious package and descended, I was hurried back to the house for a bath and a dressing down. My dress was in a passable state to me, though my mother did not see it the same way—she examined it and exclaimed over every blemish. I was sent to bed without dinner, and told my mother would disown me if I should ever dare to climb a tree again.”

  “At least your final adventure into the branches of a tree was memorable,” said Olivia, still laughing.

  “Who said it was my last adventure?” asked Elizabeth with exaggerated nonchalance. “I merely confined my exploits to trees situated further from the house.”

  The girls descended into hilarity again, and it was several moments before they recovered enough to speak.

  “Can you teach me to climb trees?” asked a wide-eyed Leah.

  “I am sorry, my dear,” said Elizabeth with an affectionate smile, “but my tree climbing days are many years in the past. Besides, I do not believe your parents would be pleased with me if I taught you such skills.”

  Olivia grimaced. “I believe you are correct.” She turned to Leah and said: “You should keep the stories Lizzy tells us to yourself, Leah. Mama would not like hearing them.”

  The solemn manner in which Leah agreed to keep Elizabeth’s secrets again prompted Elizabeth’s regret. She could not understand how they endured the situation.

  “It appears as if you girls are enjoying yourselves.”

  As one, the three girls looked up to see Edward watching them, the hint of a smirk displaying his amusement containing a bit of a sarcastic edge. By her side, Elizabeth could feel Olivia stiffening, and she noted that Leah also regarded her eldest sibling warily.

  “I suppose we have,” said Elizabeth, deciding to bear the burden of the response. “I enjoy your sisters’ company very much, Cousin.”

  Edward regarded them for several moments, before he motioned them to rise. “It is time to return to the house. In the future, I would appreciate it if you would limit these outings. I have tasks to complete, and I must put them off to fetch you.”

  “You need not bother,” said Elizabeth, glaring at him and daring him to disagree. “We are not so far from the house that we cannot make our way back without your assistance.”

  Though Edward pursed his lips, he did not respond. Knowing there was nothing to be done, Elizabeth assisted Olivia in packing the remains of the lunch back into the basket. It did not escape Elizabeth’s notice that Leah held her sister’s hand tightly and stayed close to her as they walked. Edward, it appeared, did not notice her behavior. In fact, he seemed to have something to say to Elizabeth herself, as he deliberately slowed his steps and allowed his sisters to continue ahead.

  Her conjecture was proven correct when he turned to her after some minutes and said: “You should not fill my sisters’ heads with dreams and fanciful notions.”

  “Oh?” asked Elizabeth. “I was under the impression that was why your father asked me to come to Derbyshire. It seems to me that preparing for her coming out would fit your idea of a ‘fanciful notion.’”

  Rather than becoming annoyed as Elizabeth might have thought, Edward only shook his head. “Why raise their hopes, only for them to be dashed?”

  “Are you so certain they are destined to be dashed?”

>   “You are familiar with the world in which we live, Cousin,” said he, throwing her an exasperated glance. “There are no men who will consider my sisters as partners in marriage when they come with no dowry and connections to naught but a man of business, a country squire, and a farmer who gives himself airs of being a gentleman.”

  “You are harsh on your father, are you not?”

  Edward grimaced. “I simply understand the reality of the situation. The best my sisters can ever hope for is a country parson, perhaps. I would not be surprised if either of them make no more favorable match than a tenant.”

  “I am sorry, Cousin, but I do not subscribe to your pessimism.” Edward’s eyes darted to Elizabeth, and she showed him that she was not impressed by his manners or his attitude. “Perhaps you have chosen to believe this, but I choose to believe that there are men in the world who are not ruled by greed and shallow desires.”

  “I suppose you believe that some wealthy man will offer for you, elevate you to the status of a duchess.” The sarcasm in her cousin’s voice was unmistakable, and his gaze raked over her with evident disdain for her naïveté. “Or perhaps great wealth alone is enough. Shall you throw yourself at Darcy? He has remained inscrutable to all—perhaps he is waiting for just such a fortune-hunter as you.”

  “If you mean to provoke me to anger, Cousin,” replied Elizabeth, “I shall not oblige you. I have no such thoughts in mind. All I ask from a husband is love and respect, and I am determined that I shall not enter into marriage if I cannot have them.”

  “Then you shall die an old maid.”

  “That is possible.” Elizabeth shrugged. “If that is to be my fate, then I accept it willingly. But I shall not compromise my principles in favor of a comfortable situation, and I will not teach your sisters to have no hope.”

  The look Edward directed at her sent shivers down her spine. His behavior was not objectionable—not like his mother, for certain—but she did not quite know what to make of him.

  “When I heard you were coming,” said he after a moment’s silence, “I had thought to explore whether we were compatible as marriage partners.”

  “You may dismiss such a notion completely,” said Elizabeth. “I do not think we would suit.”

  “In this, I can agree with you. I believe I will require a practical wife. Practicality is something you do not seem to possess.”

  “I do when the situation is right.” Elizabeth turned to her cousin and stopped walking, forcing him to stop if he wished to continue to speak with her. “I have no desire to argue with you, Edward. I can see there are differences in our opinions, and I would not bring more discord into your father’s home.

  “I will promise that I will not teach your sisters to hope without reason, nor will I instruct them to reach further above them than is wise. But I will also not teach them to be completely without hope. Can you accept that?”

  Edward eyed her for a moment before he looked away. “I wish, Elizabeth, that I could give my sisters everything their hearts desire—my brothers too, for that matter. But I cannot. My father is not a wealthy man, and neither will I be wealthy when I inherit. I do not wish to see them disappointed by life.”

  “Disappointment is part of life, Edward,” said Elizabeth. “No one, not the wealthiest man in the world, has everything he wishes. But to me, the worst fate is to live, having no faith, no expectation of joy. One can strive for a better life, for better circumstances, or even just for one to love, as I do. Disappointment will inevitably strike us during our lives. It is how we deal with our disappointments that define us, that define our happiness.”

  “Very well, then,” said Edward. “A truce it is.” He attempted a smile. “Olivia and Leah have been happier since you have come, and I do appreciate that. I will support you however I can.”

  “Thank you,” said Elizabeth, appreciating her success in coming to a détente with her cousin.

  They walked back to the house in silence, eventually overtaking Olivia and Leah, who had stopped, wondering what had become of them. Elizabeth saw the girls looking at her with curiosity and gave a minute shake of her head. There was no need for her to concern herself, it seemed. Perhaps Edward would be an ally after all.

  “You did not tell me that such beauty could be found in the wilds of Derbyshire, Darcy.”

  Darcy looked away from the retreating forms of the two ladies, the young girl, and his neighbor’s eldest son, to see Fitzwilliam grinning at him.

  “Can I assume you are acquainted with these people?”

  With a shrug, Darcy said: “The young man is my neighbor’s son, Mr. Edward Drummond, while the younger girls are his daughters, Miss Olivia Drummond and Miss Leah. The other I do not know.”

  “And she the jewel of the group, I dare say,” replied Fitzwilliam. “The distance makes it difficult, but she was slender, and her hair appeared to be a lovely shade, and I would not be surprised if she was pretty, indeed. Perhaps you should ask for an introduction.”

  Darcy scowled at his cousin. “I know nothing of her.”

  “What better way to learn than to be introduced?”

  A grunt escaped Darcy’s lips, and he turned away from his cousin, heeling his horse to return to Pemberley, sensing Fitzwilliam following him. It had been the merest chance that had led him to this far flung part of the estate, and he had not expected to see the ladies there, nor the young man who had, it seemed, come to collect them. From his experience, the Drummond children were immersed in assisting their parents care for the estate, which had dwindled to little more than a farm. Drummond was a good man, though, and Darcy esteemed him for that fact alone.

  “I have seen her once before,” said Darcy, giving voice to his thoughts. “She was at Kingsdown two days ago when I visited.”

  “And?” prompted his cousin.

  Darcy only shrugged. “I know nothing of her. Drummond and I needed to speak of the fence between our properties. The young miss never came up in our conversation.”

  “Do you think she is some relation?”

  “I do not know. I have never heard of any relations of the Drummonds, but then again, they have not spoken much of themselves the times I have been in their company. Furthermore . . .”

  “Yes?” asked Fitzwilliam when Darcy remained in his thoughts for several moments.

  “Perhaps I should not speak so,” said Darcy, “but Mrs. Drummond has always given the impression of a woman who is not content with her lot.”

  A frown was Fitzwilliam’s response. “There may be many reasons, if she is discontented.”

  “That is true. I do not mean to cast aspersions on her character, and she has never been anything other than proper in my presence, and I have never had to concern myself with the prospect of her pushing her daughter on me.”

  Fitzwilliam laughed and shook his head. “It always comes to that, does it not?”

  “I would be very happy if it did not, but society mothers are relentless.”

  Though he continued to shake his head, Fitzwilliam said nothing further on the subject.

  “I shall depart on the morrow for Thorndell.”

  Darcy nodded. “You will return, though?”

  “Of course,” said Fitzwilliam with an expansive grin. “The society you keep here is more interesting than any I have experienced at Thorndell. I have a few details to see to—when they are complete, I will return directly. I should be gone no more than two or three days.”

  “Then God speed, Cousin. Georgiana and I will anticipate your return.”

  Chapter VI

  Two days after their picnic, Mr. Drummond asked Elizabeth and Olivia if they would like to accompany him to Lambton.

  “I have some business in town, and I believe there are some items for you young ladies to purchase.”

  They were sitting at breakfast, and Elizabeth had been contemplating what she planned to do that day. The invitation to go to Lambton had taken her by surprise.


  “I would like to go, Papa,” said Olivia. “But to what items do you refer?”

  “A visit to the dressmaker would be in order, for one,” replied her father. “As you know, there is an assembly next week, and as it is only an informal gathering at Lambton’s assembly hall, I believe it would be a good opportunity for you to have your first taste of society.”

  A movement out of the corner of her eye caught Elizabeth’s attention, and she caught a glimpse of her aunt’s grimace. The woman did not say anything, leading Elizabeth to believe that the subject had already been canvassed between them, and her aunt had already been informed of Mr. Drummond’s plans for this outing. She did not seem to be pleased, but she did not protest.

  “And, there are other activities in which to indulge in Lambton.” Mr. Drummond smiled at Elizabeth. “My brother Bennet led me to believe that his second daughter is a great reader, indeed, and yet she has not yet entered a bookstore since her arrival in Derbyshire.”

  The quiet scoffing of the Drummond matron was universally ignored. Instead, she fixed a stern look on her uncle.

  “I am not a great reader. You should not pay any attention to my father, as he has a propensity to tease.”

  “Perhaps that is true, Lizzy,” replied Mr. Drummond, not at all put off. “But I believe today is an excellent opportunity to go to Lambton and enjoy yourselves.” Elizabeth had the impression he was avoiding a glance at his wife when he added: “Of course, there are tasks which must be completed before we depart.”

  “Of course,” replied Elizabeth smoothly.

  “Papa,” asked Leah with a fearful look at her mother. “May I go too?”

  “You may,” replied Mr. Drummond. “Attend to your lessons with Elizabeth this morning, and there may be a treat for you when we are there.”