When such customers came in, Elizabeth took to retiring to the back of the store, where there was always plenty of extra sewing work to be done. She told herself it was not so different from embroidering in the sitting room at Longbourn. She still had much to be thankful for and was determined to follow Jane's example and make the best of her reduced circumstances.
Charlotte Collins was among the few old acquaintances Elizabeth was happy to see at the shop. Charlotte had made an effort to keep their friendship alive, although Elizabeth still refused to visit Longbourn when Mr. Collins was present. Her spirits lightened when Charlotte came into the shop one sunny day in search of new scarlet ribbons.
They chatted about mutual acquaintances and village gossip for some time while Charlotte was choosing her ribbons. "Lizzy, what think you of this one? Will it suit my bonnet?"
"Oh, yes," Elizabeth said in her old teasing way. "Its glory will strike Mr. Collins blind when he sees you wear it."
Charlotte laughed as Elizabeth cut the length of ribbon and rolled it up neatly. She held it out, but Charlotte did not immediately take it. Instead, her gaze seemed fixed on Elizabeth's hand. Charlotte lightly touched the chapped skin of her fingers. "Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry."
Elizabeth fought the impulse to snatch her hands away. "It is nothing. Please do not think on it again."
Charlotte held her gaze for a moment and then took the ribbon and put it in her reticule. She bit her lip and said, "Sometimes I fear that I supplanted you."
"Nonsense! You are not to blame for the entail." Elizabeth was sure that if Charlotte had her way, Mr. Collins would have been more generous in his dealings with the Bennet family, but he had his petty revenge to extract.
Charlotte leaned towards her and spoke in a low voice. "Do you ever wish that you had accepted Mr. Collins?"
Elizabeth blinked, surprised her friend would even ask the question. "Of course not! I am glad he has made you happy, but I would prefer to scrub floors night and day, if it came to that. You were right that I should have thought more practically of my future in those days, but not
that
practically!"
Elizabeth was relieved when Charlotte laughed. "I fear you could never be that practical, Lizzy."
Mr. Browning emerged from the storeroom at the sound of their merriment. Charlotte glanced at him and said, "Perhaps we could walk together tomorrow morning, Lizzy."
"I would like that." It meant a great deal to have a friend there, and it helped her forget that had she only been slower to anger, she might be living in the elegant house on Brook Street with Mr. Darcy instead of working in a shop. The familiar sense of longing for his presence flooded her, but she reminded herself she must not think of him. She must learn to be content with the life she had.
Chapter 10
Once Charlotte took her leave, Elizabeth took up a half-trimmed bonnet, held it this way, then that, and then chose a new violet ribbon to edge it. She hummed quietly to herself as she set to work, sitting in the corner by the window where the light was best. The ginger cat, as was her habit, curled up by her feet.
The bell tinkled again, but when Elizabeth looked up, she saw Mr. Browning moving towards the door, so she did not rise. A gentleman entered, doffing his hat, followed by a young lad.
Elizabeth's hand stilled, her needle halfway through the ribbon. For a moment she did not believe her eyes, but she would never forget the figure he cut, his decisive step, the swing of his frock coat. He had not noticed her yet, off in the corner. Her mouth dry, she stole the opportunity to look her fill. The light filtering in the shop window seemed to throw his profile into sharp relief. Belatedly she rose to her feet.
Mr. Browning bustled forward to meet him. "Mr. Darcy! What a pleasure to see you in Meryton again, sir!"
Darcy handed his hat to the boy at his side. "Thank you. You received my letter?"
Elizabeth almost dropped the bonnet in surprise. Mr. Darcy writing to Mr. Browning? She could not imagine he patronized local stores to any extent when he had visited Netherfield, and that had been long ago, in any case. He had never given any hint of a connection when she had spoken to him about her worries for Jane, all those months earlier.
"Indeed I did, sir, and is this the young man you mentioned?"
"Yes, this is Charlie. Perhaps you would like to speak with him for a few minutes to judge whether he will suit."
"Oh, that won't be necessary, sir. Your recommendation is all I require. I am sure he will be completely satisfactory."
Darcy cast a sidelong glance at the boy. "He has never been outside London and is not accustomed to small towns."
Darcy's recommendation? Elizabeth could not miss the implication of the words. She had told him about Jane, and then Mr. Browning had found an investor. It could not be a coincidence. Had it been for her sake? Her heart knew the answer, though he had told her nothing of it. Mr. Darcy, dabbling in trade, for her sake.
The boy's gaze wandered around the shop until he discovered her, and then he tugged at Mr. Darcy's sleeve and whispered something. Darcy's head turned in her direction. When their eyes met, a shock went down her spine. Her feet seemed rooted to the floor. The first sight of his slight smile brought her a happy thrill, though, and she thought he must be able to see her heart in her eyes. Perhaps it would all turn out well after all.
***
Darcy's pulse hammered. He had not expected Elizabeth to be in the shop; his plan had been to call on her once he had disposed of Charlie. Seeing her form lit by filtered sunlight took his breath away.
Mr. Browning must have noted his loss of interest in their conversation, for he said, "Mr. Darcy, did you make the acquaintance of my wife's sister, Miss Bennet, when you visited Netherfield? She has been assisting me in the shop. I am sure she will appreciate a set of strong young hands to help here."
Darcy frowned. Elizabeth was
working
in the shop? How could her family permit it? Helping with her young cousins and being dependent on her uncle's good will had been troubling enough, but working as a shopgirl, where any casual passerby could demand her attention and she would have no recourse but to respond--it was completely intolerable. It took all his self-control not to take her by the arm and drag her out of that place.
Elizabeth said quietly, "Mr. Darcy and I are indeed acquainted." She seemed subdued, and her cheeks were scarlet.
Mr. Browning rubbed his hands together. "Ah, very good, very good. Mr. Darcy, perhaps you would like Miss Bennet to show you some samples of our wares."
Darcy had to say something. He could not simply stand there as if frozen by Medusa, but he could find no words. Her presence, compounded by his discovery of her activities, robbed him of the ability to think.
Elizabeth, apparently taking pity on him, said, "You might find something Miss Darcy would like, although our goods cannot compare to those in London."
Her melodic voice woke him from his stupor. He said gravely, "When it comes to beauty, I do not think London offers any advantage over Meryton."
If anything, her cheeks became a deeper red. "What would you like to see? We have some silk shawls, or perhaps a bonnet?"
How could he possibly allow Elizabeth to wait upon him? It was impossible, yet he could not leave without speaking further to her. "I have something quite particular in mind." He hoped she would understand his emphasis. "But perhaps that can wait; I need some fresh air after sitting in a carriage all morning. I recall, Miss Bennet, that you know all the finest walks in the area. Perhaps Mr. Browning could spare you for an hour."
Mr. Browning smiled broadly. "Of course, Mr. Darcy! As long as you like."
Elizabeth hid a smile. It was fortunate that
she
did not object, since Mr. Browning seemed determined to give Mr. Darcy whatever his heart might desire. An odd sensation trickled through her at the thought that she might be his heart's desire, but she wondered who the boy might be. There was something familiar about his gamin features. Perhaps he was a distant Darcy relation, or one not so distant, but on the wrong side of the blanket. She bit her lip in a rush of jealousy, but she could not imagine that Mr. Darcy's pride would allow even an illegitimate child of his to work in a shop. She had seen his horrified look when he realized her position.
She hurried to fetch her bonnet and gloves, impatient for the chance to speak to him and to discover his intention in coming to Meryton, and whether it would fulfill her dearest dreams.
Darcy seemed disinclined to say anything as they walked through Meryton, though. Elizabeth was conscious of curious eyes watching them. When they reached the outskirts of town, she could no longer stand the silence and uncertainty. "It has been a long time since I have seen you in Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy. I did not know you maintained connections here."
"A few."
She felt oddly tongue-tied. Did his terseness indicate displeasure, or was he facing his own anxieties? "I hope Miss Darcy is well," she ventured.
"Quite well. And you? Are you pleased to be in Meryton once again? You must enjoy your walks in the countryside again."
"That is one of my pleasures." She need not tell him of the difficulty of living in her Aunt Philips's crowded home, and it did not matter now, anyway, not when he was beside her. Instead, she gave him an arch smile. "Jane told me that someone had invested in her husband's shop, but it did not occur to me it might be you. I had not realized you took such an interest in trade."
"It is nothing. I hoped you might worry less about your sister if her situation were more comfortable. I did not intend for you to know my part in it."
From his embarrassed look, she was sure he wished she had not discovered his secret. "I thank you."
"Please do not thank me. I did it to relieve my own mind."
She decided not to quibble, since he seemed determined to refuse credit. "It was a very selfish action on your part, then, sir. Is it my fate to never be permitted to thank you for anything?"
He laughed. "Miss Bennet, you are far too adroit at twisting my words."
His laughter lifted her spirits, but he did not seem to have anything further to say. She wished she had the right to say something to him, but it was a woman's role to wait, however little it suited her lively temperament. She played with the ribbon of her bonnet, glancing up to see his eyes on her in a manner that gave her a strangely warm feeling inside. She had to fight the impulse to draw closer to him. Instead, she turned her gaze to the sheep grazing in the field by the side of the road. What could she speak of now?
"That boy--is he a connection of yours?" She tried not to put undue stress on the words, which of course made it sound stilted, the exact thing she wished to avoid.
He tightened his lips. "No. He did me a service once, and I am returning the favour."
She felt embarrassed to have asked, since he clearly wished to avoid the subject. "For some reason he seemed a little familiar to me, but no doubt many young boys have that look."
His mouth quirked endearingly. "I first encountered Charlie on Gracechurch Street. That would no doubt account for it."
"On Gracechurch Street?" she exclaimed.
"Yes. One of his friends was the cook's boy at your uncle's house."
The letter that had appeared in her room, and Darcy's mysterious knowledge of her whereabouts. "
He
was your agent, then."
"He is a very enterprising lad."
"Does that mean he will be reporting back to you from Meryton?" She gave him a teasing look.
Darcy hesitated. "He cannot write."
"You did not answer my question, sir."
Darcy seemed to have developed an overwhelming interest in the carriage ruts on the road. Finally he said, "No, I did not."
This further evidence of his concern for her sent a thrill down her spine, but her dismay at the thought of having Darcy learn more of her menial activities outweighed the pleasure. "I do not require supervision, sir," she said tartly.
His cheeks flushed as he straightened, his haughty look back on his face. "I did not expect you would be in the shop, just near enough that he could see you occasionally. He will not spy on you. I wish reassurance as to your well-being, not knowledge of your private affairs." At her dubious look, he sighed and straightened his hat. "Eliz... Miss Bennet, can you not put yourself in my position? Imagine that someone you cared for was... facing challenges. Would you wish to spend months fretting over what she might be suffering, or would you seek a way to know if she needed assistance?"
Elizabeth's breath caught. "I am not in a position to accept your assistance."
"That could change." He seemed to be speaking to the leaves of the tree overhead.
She had to find the resolve to speak, though her pulse was pounding. "Could it truly? I cannot imagine that your family and friends would have approved of such an alliance, even before shame came on my family. Now it seems impossible. How could you countenance such a connection? My sister's disgrace makes me wholly unsuitable even to converse with your sister, much less to claim a relationship."
She did not know what reaction to expect, but it was certainly not that Mr. Darcy would freeze in place, his eyes closed, with an expression of such pain that she longed to comfort him. When he spoke, his voice was rough. "Pray do not speak so. Your family is as deserving as mine."
She touched his arm lightly, astonished at her own daring, but wishing only to ease his distress. "That is untrue. I appreciate your attempt to protect my sensibilities, but I can face the truth."
"I speak the truth. Miss Bennet, I need a moment to compose my thoughts, and greater privacy than an open roadway. Is there not a bench in the churchyard where we might rest a moment?"
Curious, and more than a little worried, Elizabeth led the way to the marble bench behind the church. Had he somehow known it was one of her favourite retreats, or was it but chance? The gnarled old oak she had once climbed as a young child shaded them from the sun and from peering eyes. The chill of the marble reached through her thin dress as she sat.
Mr. Darcy, despite his words, seemed disinclined to join her, and instead peered at an old gravestone. Her mind tried to race ahead of itself to discover his thoughts, as if bracing her against ill tidings.
At one moment he looked up, and she thought he was about to speak, but then he sighed heavily and turned to yet another gravestone. She had the distinct sensation he was oblivious to the words carved in it long before. Finally he began. "Please understand that this is difficult for me to speak of, and no less a situation than this could bring me to disclose it. I have a cousin, a young man who married several years ago. He recently adopted a child, who is generally considered to be a by-blow of mine. I have not discouraged the notion."
Her stomach clenched at the idea of him with another woman, though there must have been more than one. "Mr. Darcy, you need not tell me this."
He held up a hand to stop her. "I did not father him. I do not claim to be a saint, but that cannot be laid at my doorstep. The child is my nephew."
His nephew? But he had no brothers or sisters other than Miss Darcy, who was far too young for such an event. She could not imagine the shy young girl in such a position. She was still so young, no older than Lydia. But Lydia was in the same state. A horrified understanding dawned upon her. "
Miss Darcy
?"
He raised pained eyes to hers. "Two summers ago, when she was but fifteen, an old family friend came to see her and led her to believe herself in love with him. He took advantage of her innocence and then persuaded her to agree to an elopement to cover her shame. By God's grace I was fortunate enough to discover it before it occurred, but she was already--" He shook his head. "The man in question was George Wickham. His object was her dowry of thirty thousand pounds."