After seeing Elizabeth off to Rosefarm Cottage, Darcy took the longer way to Clyne. There was so much he needed to think about, so many thoughts and emotions he wished to cherish in silence, and he was in so little want of company, that it seemed this longer path, though it would take him an additional hour, could not be long enough. When he had relished the events of the morning to his contentment, he turned his thoughts towards the future. There were many things to do which should not be left unattended. He spurred his horse on, and upon entering the house he went to his chambers at once without even looking for Brougham.

Sitting down at his desk, he took up his quill and wrote a letter to Mr. Hinchcliffe. After listing all the orders and wishes that seemed apt and ardent at the moment, he folded the letter in one more sheet of fine woven paper and sealed it with his ring. Upon examining his watch he decided that there was enough time to have it sent with an express. Resolving that it would be only safe and proper if he delivered it personally, he chose to ride to town without delay.

When Lizzy returned from her most glorious morning with Mr. Darcy she found that Holly had left on Clyne librarian duties, Mrs. Tournier was busy at her desk and did not seem to desire company, and Monsieur Vian was nowhere in discernable sight. Since she had wanted nothing more at the moment than to spend some time alone, she was quite elated to find things as she did.

While she knew she could not indulge in the luxury of staying to herself very often, as it would only give her aunt reasons to ask awkward questions and to find fault with her behaviour, she did feel her reasons for wanting it now were just. Bursting with barely containable joy over her recent betrothal to Mr. Darcy, she wanted to savour it, especially knowing she would have to contain her feelings at least outwardly for a while longer – not to mention all that she would likely have to endure along the way in her efforts to hide them considering how things now stood at Rosefarm. Not only was there the awkward situation with Monsieur Vian to consider, there was also the reaction of both ladies when she finally did share her news. The mere fact that she had kept it hidden would be something to reckon with concerning Holly at least.

But for this one morning, she did not wish anything to complicate her most precious and perfect feelings, and she had two letters to write as a remedy to aid her in her endeavour to maintain her countenance for the rest of the necessary time after. She wished most fervently to share her news with Jane. Of course she would consult with Mr. Darcy before she ever sent it, but the mere act of putting the words to paper would suit her for now. Her father would also need some sort of preparation for what was coming. Although she knew very little she might say to him could possibly ease the shock he would likely feel when Mr. Darcy spoke to him, at the very least she could assure her father that all was well within herself so he would not think her out of her mind when that time came.

She sat down at the desk and began to write.

To my dear, sweet Jane,

I write with the utmost happiness in my heart. I wonder how you fare in terms of your wedding preparations since I have last heard from you. I also wonder at, and feel I now better understand, your most happy condition. The joy you have related at your every sight and thought of your Mr. Bingley, while I knew it to be pleasurable, was never so clear to me as it is at present. I am now certain it fills your heart to the point of overflowing. How you bear it I can finally fully comprehend because I have such happy news to share myself. News, of course, that I know you will keep to your most generous self until such a time when all can know it.

Jane, I think you know the state I was in when I left home, but I have never told you why I did not rush back at your happy news. When I tell you that Mr. Darcy has been in Scotland the entire time I have been here, and I could not bring myself to leave for the most selfish reasons, I am sure you can now guess why. In fact, it is possible that you have already surmised this if Mr. Bingley has shared Mr. Darcy's whereabouts with you -- does he even know them I wonder?

To make a very long and complicated story short, and I assure you that I will share all of the details at a later time, I will only tell you now that he has asked me to become his wife. We keep the most ecstatic news to ourselves at this time until he makes the trip to Longbourn to speak with our father. But I find that I cannot contain myself, and I need to share it with you, the one who would most understand my current state of perfect euphoria. I think Mr. Darcy would forgive me this one indiscretion, since I share with my most beloved sister and confidante.

Oh, Jane! We are two of the most blessed women, are we not? To have both found a man we could love who each loves us most dearly in return. I now recall our conversations of the past when we spoke of our future prospects, and I think you know that I resolved not to marry if it could not be for love. I must now tell you that you will need to find someone else to teach your children how to play the piano most ill, as I will be busy teaching my own this very skill.

I will be home very shortly after Mr. Darcy speaks to our father. I cannot wait to spend a few precious moments with you alone where we shall grin most foolishly and sigh heavily with the contentedness we both feel for one another and ourselves.

Yours, united in most delicious bliss,

Elizabeth.

 

Dear beloved Father,

I write to share the latest news from Rosefarm, as I am sure you will be in suspense wondering what could possibly be happening to the north of you that keeps your daughter so entertained that she has not written for at least a week? Allow me to enlighten you now.

My Aunt works at her desk most days, and has curiously developed an interest in teaching me skills that she deems useful to the world in general, but to her in particular. Beginning about midmorning on most days, she has me organising her papers and researching various facts for several hours until she finally tires of having me constantly under foot. It is then that she sends me out on some errand or other so that she might have some peace and quiet. Still, she always takes time out to speak with Holly and me, claiming she needs to do this regularly in order to assess whether or not we still have our senses about us and ensure that we do not run around confused and witless.

Of course she does takes good care of your daughter's needs, just as you would wish, and for this very reason I have followed your intent regarding some of the money you have sent to me and put five pounds into her hands. I have done so most quietly, quickly, and as unobtrusively as possible, saying only that you wished it to cover my keep while I stayed here. You will not be surprised at her response, I think. She said, “I suppose this is so I will purchase some meat? I imagine, dear Lizzy, that you wrote to your father and told him that you are not being fed properly here in Scotland.” I simply laughed, told her that she knew me well, and that I had of course complained severely at my earliest convenience. To which she just smirked at me and told me to get along with myself.

As I informed you before, Holly no longer works at the girls’ finishing school in Edinburgh, but I am happy to relay the news that she is now commissioned as an illustrator for an author and has hopes of more such commissions in the future. She also occupies herself with organizing the library of a local Baron for which she is compensated. It has been some time since you have seen her, but I think you would find her little changed from what you remember.

I, myself, spend as much time roaming the beautiful countryside as my aunt will allow me and endeavour to make myself as useful as I can possibly be. All teasing of my aunt aside, I have found the community here to be very satisfying and refreshing, and even fancy myself as having had a few small adventures while I have been here. I remember your parting words to me most tenderly, even though we have both avoided the topic since, but I wish you to know that I am well, Father. I have found the peace inside of myself that I sought and that you had wished for me. You have no further need to worry yourself on my account.

I am fully aware that last statement might soon have you writing a letter to hurry me home. Perhaps the wedding preparations for Jane have become too much for you to bear? Let me save you the time and trouble of having to write such a letter and tell you now that I am rather sure I will be returning home sooner than I had originally planned. Perhaps some two or three weeks from now? Will that suit?

I hope all is well with you, my dear Father, and that everyone is happy and healthy back home. Give my best wishes to all of my sisters and to my mother.

With love,

Elizabeth.

With her father’s letter in hand, and feeling quite content with herself, Lizzy went down to inform her aunt that she would go on an errand to the post, however, once she arrived at the parlour the presence of Mr. Vian gave her immediate pause. It was as if her joy had somehow overtaken her caution and allowed her to temporarily forget the complications that still surrounded her at every turn. Having stopped in the doorway after being startled by seeing the Frenchman there, she suddenly realised she would not be allowed to go on her errand alone. Her aunt had practically pushed her godson on her in order to give him some entertainment while he stayed there, and Mrs. Tournier had no reason to change her ways. None whatsoever. No knowledge of his recent treatment of her niece, or Lizzy’s own desperate desire to keep a distance from him. Lizzy realised with now clearing vision that this was going to be much more complicated than she had anticipated in her elated state this morning. Encouraged by such happiness, she had readily underestimated what lay ahead of her.

The Frenchman viewed her from under heavy eyelids and then just as quickly turned his attention away. Mrs. Tournier looked up upon hearing her, and Lizzy now had no choice but to make her way into the room, for it was plainly too late to pass it by.

“Lizzy, there you are,” her aunt stated the obvious, “and it is about time too. I was just about to send for you, but I see by the correspondence in your hand that you have read my mind and came to enquire if I had any of my own to send. I do!

“Maurice, you will fetch them from my desk on your way out?”

The two of them, Lizzy and Vian, exchanged uncomfortable glances before Lizzy quickly thought to save the situation.

“Aunt, perhaps Monsieur Vian was intending to go out somewhere. He might take the letters for us on his way?”

He said nothing, only sat where he was. He felt rather like a stone in a stream, letting the water rush around him, wishing in fact that it might rise and envelop him completely.

Mrs. Tournier laughed. “Maurice has said very little and made no move to go anywhere today thus far, and that is why I insist you take him along, or I think he will soon begin to grow moss somewhere on himself.”

Not wishing to be alone with him at all, Lizzy tried another tactic.

“But, Aunt, I have not seen Holly all day, and I thought to wait for her to arrive home before setting out. I am thinking she might like to come along at the very least. Would you not agree, Monsieur?”

“Certainly,” he said quietly.

“Nonsense. She would like nothing less after traipsing all the way to Clyne, moving books about on shelves all morning and then trudging back home once again. She ought to be back by the time you are, and you can spend time with her then while she sits in the garden drawing, as is her usual habit of late.”

As Lizzy pondered what other protest she might use, Vian stood up so suddenly that the movement startled both Mrs. Tournier and her. He stood there awkwardly for a brief moment, then cleared his throat and went to fetch the letters on the desk by the door. Turning only partially back towards them, he said, “If we hurry, Miss Bennet, we will be back before Miss Tournier is.”

Since any further protest would only bring questions from Mrs. Tournier, who was already eyeing both her and Mr. Vian strangely, Lizzy reluctantly followed him out.

Brougham was happily ensconced in his library when she had arrived. After exchanging the usual greetings, he sat back in his chair. He thought it might have been better if he had simply fled the room before she had entered it, given their past experiences with discourse, but it was too late now. He had found the sports chronicle too engaging to notice the passing of time and had not remembered about her impending arrival. Now, of course, he found himself thinking he should make polite conversation so as not to appear rude.

“Miss Tournier, I see you are making progress,” he ventured.

“Did you expect I would not? That would beg to question your decision in hiring me.”

He wondered briefly if his tone had sounded curt, but he was sure it had not. In case it was an issue of a rough voice, he thought to clear it before continuing in order to remove any frogs that might be residing there. “No, I fully expected you would make good progress, and I see that you have, indeed, done so.”

Her chin rose in defiance, but she said nothing.

“Yes,” he tried again, confused now, “very well done in fact.”

Still, not a peep came from her. He thought she might be tired. It was hard work moving so many books about and climbing up and down the ladder constantly, and her helper did not seem to be in sight today.

“Do you require any assistance, perhaps, with the lifting and things?”

“No, Sir. I know how to do my work.”

“I was not suggesting you did not.”

“Of course.”

Brougham shrank in his chair a bit, hoping to make her forget his presence in the room altogether. However, she seemed all too aware of his whereabouts all the same, because several moments later she broke the blessed silence that had fallen.

“I do not see your friend here, Sir.”

Brougham looked around, thinking to use humour to diffuse the uncomfortable situation he now found himself in. “I do not see him either.”

“Do you mean he left?”

The tone of her voice had suddenly lightened with her question, and so he thought his choice had been a wise one. He grinned. “I mean he is not here.”

“I see,” she almost grunted in reply, and turned back to the shelf she had been working on.

“I rather thought you had not.”

Her voice rose in pitch. “I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind. I only meant he is not here at the moment.”

“I see.”

She took a pile of astronomy works and began putting them on the lowest shelf in the darkest corner of the room. He wondered if she thought he would enjoy bending so much to read them, or if she assumed he would not read them at all? He was just about to make his excuses and leave when she continued.

“Does he often disappear?”

“I would not say that he does.”

“But he is not here now?”

“No, he is not.”

“So he does.”

“He does what, Miss Tournier?”

“Does disappear.”

“I would rather say he is out right now.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Talk about insolence, he thought, and his voice turned steely when he answered, “I do not.”

“I see.”

Exasperated now, he asked, “What do you see, Miss Tournier?”

“That he does, indeed, disappear.”

She had said it impatiently, as if he were the one having trouble understanding that Darcy was simply out somewhere and had not disappeared at all. He shook his head, feeling a bit dizzy with the current topic and the way it seemed to keep coming back to the same place.

“How so? I am afraid I am at a loss.”

“If he left he would tell you where he went.”

“I can see your meaning, but perhaps I am not equally as fortunate in following your reasoning.”

“Surely a gentleman who has honest intentions would not have any trouble in revealing his whereabouts.”

“Miss Tournier, my friend is a grown up gentleman, and I can hardly call myself his guardian.”

“Perhaps that is what is lacking.”

“What?” He was growing weary with this and hoped she might finally come to the point she had been beating about for so long now.

“Perhaps it would help if you did not abandon your friend so often.”

“How have I abandoned my friend, Miss Tournier?”

“It seems yesterday he was left at the fair all to himself.”

Now, that was simply unfeeling. That he, with his wounded arm, would be expected to nurse his friend’s wounded pride for simply losing a contest seemed utterly without merit!

“Do you think he suffered from loneliness, Miss Tournier?”

“He must have if my cousin was forced to keep him company till late afternoon.”

“I am sorry if your cousin suffered from my negligence,” he replied indignantly.

“It would help to be more considerate rather than to be sorry when it is too late.”

Brougham looked at her in disbelief. “How severe was your cousin’s actual suffering in the company of my friend?”

“They danced twice!”

Brougham raised his brow. “I doubt then, that the misfortune of your cousin was any greater than my friend’s. As much as he detests that kind of entertainment, I assure you he dances very well. Miss Bennet’s toes were quite safe.”

His remark, meant to point out how ridiculous she was being about two dances seemed to irritate her even more.

“If you had not let your friend loose my cousin would not have been troubled at all.”

“Miss Tournier, my friend is not a dog. And I bet your cousin enjoyed his company all too well.”

“Now, what is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that I presume your cousin likes dancing very much.”

“Dancing is not always proper.”

“I have not heard it being talked of as a crime.”

“It can certainly be considered an abuse if carried out without the proper intentions.”

“I am very sorry then that my friend chose to dance with a lady who would build her hopes on something that is a mere entertainment. The last I heard, two dances were still permissible without an offer being made, but maybe I have missed some change in the rules while I have been away from Town! I can see now he will never be able to escape the trap.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“Please, do not. It does not suit you.” He rose, and uttered a short, “I must excuse myself now,” that he tossed off into the air behind him as he exited the room.

He walked briskly through the house, gathered his coat and headed directly to the stables.

He had only meant to make polite conversation, he thought as he reluctantly relived the encounter, trying hard to understand exactly where he had gone wrong so he might make sure not to repeat his mistake.

“It is no use!” he told his horse as he saddled it. “I cannot for the life of me discover what I could say or leave unsaid that would please her! She simply chooses to take offence and so she does, and I am sure her friend is made of the same cloth! Damn these meddling and disagreeable women who disturb a man’s solitude and peace of mind!”

With that thought he suddenly knew where he was headed to this very instant. He had a call to make and an engagement to arrange, and by golly, he was going to make it!

This story is written by Laura and Sylwia, and they own full © copyrights to it.

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