Mr. Darcy's Refuge (20 page)

“I am not asking you to lie, my dear; merely to make it easier for your father to see both sides of the question.”

“So he can be as unfair to me as he likes, and I must be all sweetness in return?”

“He
is
your father and you must be ruled by him. My suggestion is only to set the scene so that it is more favorable to you.”

“I will consider it,” Elizabeth said petulantly. “More likely he will retreat back to his library and forget all about it if he thinks I have accepted his dictates.”

“Would it be better to be continually at odds?” When Elizabeth had no reply for this, she added, “But let us wait to discover more. Your uncle has no doubt gained a further understanding of your father’s motivations, and may be able to enlighten us. There must be more to this matter than meets the eye. As you say, this is out of character for him.”

“If I write a letter, will you send it to Mr. Darcy for me?”

Mrs. Gardiner bit her lip. “No, Lizzy, I cannot,” she said gently. “Not when your father has expressly forbidden it.”

Elizabeth looked away. It had been her one hope.

***

After a mostly sleepless night, Elizabeth decided that her aunt’s advice had some merit. Wearing one of Jane’s dresses and her slippers, she went downstairs to breakfast with the appearance of calmness, though she could not bring herself to smile at her father. She ate enough to alleviate the concern of anyone who might be observing her habits. She listened without comment as the others discussed their plans for the day. Her father made no reference to the previous day or anything related to Kent.

After breakfast, she gave in to the importuning of her young cousins to tell them a story. She was a particular favorite of theirs for the fantastic tales she wove for them, and if this day’s imagining was somewhat paler than usual, they did not complain.

Once the children were back in their nursery for lessons, Mrs. Gardiner suggested a shopping expedition with her two nieces. “We will need to purchase a few sundries for Lizzy since we do not know when her trunks will arrive.”

“I imagine Charlotte has already sent them to Longbourn, since there was no mention of stopping in London,” Elizabeth said equably. “But I will not need anything if I am to go home in the next few days, and if I am to stay longer, I imagine the trunks can be sent on here from Longbourn.”

“You are welcome to stay for as long as you like,” her aunt said warmly.

“Thank you. I am always happy to see you, but I believe it is not up to me.” Elizabeth glanced at her father.

Mr. Bennet lowered the newspaper he was reading by just a few inches. “I have not decided when we will return.” His gaze returned to the paper.

Mrs. Gardiner shrugged lightly. “Well, then, you and Jane will need to fetch your bonnets and gloves. I will lend you a shawl, Lizzy. I do not want you to take a chill!”

Elizabeth tactfully chose not to point out that she had spent the previous day outdoors without a shawl. At least she had Charlotte’s bonnet and gloves, and today her feet would not be soaking wet. Her half-boots were still a bit damp despite sitting in front of the fire all night, but a pair of warm woolen stockings would prove a suitable barrier.

When the two sisters returned downstairs, now prepared for their excursion, they found Mrs. Gardiner still in the sitting room conversing with their father.

Mr. Bennet folded his newspaper and laid it aside. Rising from his chair, he approached Elizabeth and held out his hand. “I will take that letter, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth lifted her chin. “What letter?”

“The letter to Mr. Darcy that I am quite sure you have secreted somewhere about your person -- the one you are hoping to post while you are out and I am not watching.”

At that moment, Elizabeth detested him. Slowly she reached into her pocket and drew out an envelope, but instead of handing it to him, she darted behind him and pushed it directly into the hottest part of the fire. Her aunt seized her hand, beating out the sparks that remained on her glove.

Elizabeth looked dispassionately at the singe marks. She would have to buy a new pair for Charlotte. “Shall we go now?” she asked with false brightness.

Mr. Bennet held out a hand to stop her. “Not until I have your word that you will not attempt to write to Mr. Darcy or to contact him in any way, either directly or through someone else.”

Elizabeth raised her eyes to his. “And if I do not give you my word?”

“Then you must remain in your room until such a time as you are prepared to give it.”

The smile with which he delivered his ultimatum goaded Elizabeth’s fragile temper beyond its breaking point. She removed the gloves and her bonnet and slapped them down on a small table. “Then I will be in my room. You may keep these hostage as surety that I will not sneak out. Of course, that would make no difference to
you
, since you have no objection to my being exposed to the entire world, but
I
have better manners than to go outside bare-headed. Perhaps you would do best to tie my hands behind my back.”

Mrs. Gardiner put a restraining hand on her arm. “Lizzy, your father does not mean…”

Elizabeth cut her off. “Do not worry. I will be perfectly well. If he intends to starve me into submission, I can trust Jane to sneak a few stale bread crusts and water to me.”

Mr. Bennet said dryly, “Kindly spare us the drama, Lizzy.”

“Why should I? After all, it is apparently the only thing which I am allowed,” she shot back as she stalked out of the room.

Mrs. Gardiner pursed her lips. “Oh, Thomas, that was not well done. I would have been willing to watch her while we were out.”

Mr. Bennet crossed his arms. “She must learn to obey me.”

“What has happened to you? Did the fairies swap the real Thomas Bennet for a changeling when you were in Kent? I can understand that you do not look forward to your Lizzy leaving home to live halfway across the country, but all you are accomplishing now is keeping her with you a few months longer, while making sure that when she finally does leave, she will never look back!”

“It is
my
family, and I will run it as I see fit.” He shook out the newspaper and sat down behind it once more.

Mrs. Gardiner met Jane’s eyes and indicated the door with a tilt of her head. Before they left the house, Jane glanced over her shoulder up the stairs. “Perhaps I should spend a few minutes with Lizzy first.”

Mrs. Gardiner shook her head. “It is best if we give this as little notice as possible – least said, soonest mended.” But once the front door was closed behind her, she let out a long breath through her teeth. “After that little scene, I have half a mind to write to Mr. Darcy myself!”

With a little hitch in her voice, Jane said, “I don’t understand
why
he won’t let her write to him.”

“I wish I knew. Your uncle knows something of it, but he tells me it is not his confidence to share. Something will have to change, though.”

***

The dinner table that night was set for four. Mr. Bennet took this in with one keen look as he claimed his place. “Is Lizzy still sulking, then?”

Mrs. Gardiner exchanged a glance with her husband. “Since you said she was not to leave her room, I had a tray taken up to her.”

“I did not mean that she could not take meals with the family!”

“If that was your intention, it was not clear to me; nor, I daresay, was it to Lizzy.” Mrs. Gardiner appeared completely preoccupied with spooning out a portion of the ragout. “Perhaps you might explain it to her.”

Mr. Bennet waved away this obviously distasteful suggestion. “Later, perhaps.”

***

Elizabeth was not, in fact, sulking. Since she was forbidden to write to Mr. Darcy, she naturally spent the entire afternoon penning a letter to him. Since he would never receive it, she took pleasure in the utter freedom to write whatever she pleased, including a lengthy indictment of her father, the terms of which would have shocked anyone of her acquaintance. She had then moved on to discussing all the things that puzzled her about Mr. Darcy, asking him the questions she had either never thought to or never dared, and then, in his absence, answering them for herself. On Jane’s return three hours later, Elizabeth met her with ink stained hands, sore fingers, and a pen which had been so often mended as to be practically useless, but in much better spirits for having cleared her thoughts through writing them.

Her good humor did not last long, since Jane was inclined to hover, which made Elizabeth want to shred all the linens and tear around the room like a mad tiger. Since she loved her sister, she instead expressed a desire to do some quiet reading. After assuring Jane at least half a dozen times that there was nothing she either needed nor desired to be fetched, Elizabeth was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief when Jane went down to dinner.

Her dinner tray, which Mrs. Gardiner had evidently prepared with her own hands, included a tiny vase filled with snowdrops and crocuses. The evident vote of sympathy cheered Elizabeth somewhat, but the prospect of remaining trapped indefinitely in her room was making her uneasy. How long would her father continue this charade? In his current frame of mind, she feared that she would give in before he did, and then she would never forgive him – or herself.

She wondered if her father would visit her at some point, but when a knock finally came on the door, it was her uncle who stepped inside. It was unusual enough for him to come by himself; usually her aunt was the one who had direct dealings with her. Of course, she had no idea which side he was taking in this quarrel, so she decided to proceed with care, especially when she saw the very unusual sight of a wine decanter on the tray he carried.

When she offered him a seat, he said, “Would you mind if I closed the window? It is a little cold in here for me.”

“Of course not.” She had left it open all afternoon as the one bit of freedom she still possessed. Not that the sooty miasma of London could qualify as fresh air, but at least it could move freely.

Once he had wrestled the casement closed, he unstoppered the decanter and filled one wineglass. “Would you care for a glass?” he asked.

“Am I likely to require it?” she asked dubiously. Under normal circumstances, her uncle was a temperate man and would have been more likely to offer her lemonade.

He smiled as if at a private joke. “That I cannot say, but
I
certainly will before we are done.”

“This is going to be unpleasant, then.” Her heart sank.

“Less so for you than for me, my dear. I am the one who has to make the difficult explanations. You need only listen.”

“Then I will take that glass of wine.”

He raised an eyebrow, but poured for her without question, then settled back in his chair. “You are no doubt quite baffled by your father’s vehement opposition to your entanglement with Mr. Darcy.”