Scotch and Sirens - Lizzy and Darcy - Scotch and Sirens

Mrs. Tournier put down her quill and stared out of the small window to the east garden. This was where she always sat in the mornings. She liked the view and she liked it especially at this time of year when the heavy roses bowed almost to the ground and filled the blurry view out of the window with magnificent splashes of colour. She sighed. This morning she found she could not see the roses or admire them. It seemed her correspondence was suffering, too. She heard a commotion in the entrance hall and she guessed it was her niece. Setting her mouth in a grim line she knew she should get this over with as soon as possible and strode out.

“Lizzy!” she called to her niece who was now halfway up the stairs with her bonnet in her hand. “When you are done, please come down. I need to speak to you. There will be tea.”

She heard her niece acquiesce as she went on her way. Mrs. Tournier returned to the parlour to collect her thoughts and ring for tea. She would not sit down, which was highly unusual for her, and she found herself twisting the locket around her neck with her husband's portrait like she always did when faced with unpleasant tasks. She reflected that when she was finished with her talk with Lizzy she would probably be forced to extend her apologies to Higgins for reacting so forcefully and, all things considered, unladylike to her kindly meant information. She sighed heavily once again. If ever there was an occasion for tea, this was it!

Lizzy checked her hair and remembered to brush the horsehair from her dress before she went down. She entered the room where her aunt was and made her way to the tea table.

“Shall I pour for you?” she asked as she reached for the pot. Getting no answer as she poured, she looked up and saw the stern look on Mrs. Tournier's face. “What is it, Aunt? Did something happen?”

Mrs. Tournier took the teacup from her niece's hand. She saw her flinch slightly, and she guessed she had lapsed into the thunderous stare Holly used to accuse her of wearing whenever she was scolding her as a child. She remembered this was not her daughter, and neither was Lizzy a child, and so she sighed heavily and decided to speak instead.

“Yes, my dear. Please sit down here beside me. Now, Lizzy, I shall show you my magnanimous side and begin by telling you I have full confidence in your character and judgement. I think you an intelligent and kind girl and fully capable of guarding your own interests and deciding your own life. But, and it pains me to have to say this, I have been informed, by Higgins no less, that lately it seems you have indulged in some, shall we say, imprudent enthusiasm for the outdoors. Before I go on, I would very much like to hear about what you have been doing every single morning this past week when the weather has permitted you to venture out.”

Lizzy was stunned. She might have weathered the stern look, but her aunt's words would have taken her to her knees had she not been sitting down. She looked away. She looked anywhere but at Mrs. Tournier as the realization of what she had done and its implications hit her squarely in the face. Such a selfish, unthinking creature that she had been! All because she had not wanted to be talked out of doing something that her foolish heart desired. She collected her thoughts as best as she could and turned to give her aunt the explanation that she was waiting for.

“I must assure you that I have done nothing unseemly, although in light of its discovery, it might seem so to others. Oh, how could I have been so thoughtless as to insist upon secrecy? Aunt, Mr. Darcy has been giving me riding lessons each morning. That is all. You have my word on that, although I would now understand if you did not trust what I say after what you might have heard.”

Staring now at her aunt, Lizzy wondered exactly what she had heard.

“Riding lessons? In secret?” Mrs. Tournier closed her eyes and caught a deep breath. “Lizzy, my dear. Why?”

“Oh I had perfectly sound reasons, at least to myself when I began it, but I obviously did not use perfectly sound reasoning!” She could not bear it any longer. Visions of herself nestled against Mr. Darcy on the horse danced before her eyes. Please, let it not have been that most precious moment! “Oh, Aunt, I know you deserve more of an explanation and you shall have it, but I have to know, what did you hear exactly?”

“Lizzy, it does not matter what I heard. If you feel your reasoning has been lacking in your conduct I would ask you to reflect on what the remedy must be. Only you can know the whole truth and act accordingly. Whatever I heard is of no consequence in the long run. And Mrs. Higgins has been told not to gossip.”

“It does matter what you have heard! What if it is not correct? What if it is nothing but invented lies? You must tell me what you have been told!”

Mrs. Tournier stared sternly at her obstinate niece. “Lizzy, even if I had heard lies told to me, what difference would it make? People believe lies just as easily as truth, in fact more willingly for the entertainment they provide is usually much greater than any truth that might be uttered!”

Mrs. Tournier took in the determined and defiant look on Lizzy’s face and sought to make her point loudly and clearly to her since it was obvious that the fear of the gossip of others had little effect so far.

“Lizzy! You were seen galloping wildly across an open field on the back of a horse in a lover’s embrace! Is this what you wanted to hear?”

Her face fell. It was as she feared. The one moment she cherished the most was now tainted. “He was teaching me how to jump the horse… It was innocent! It was not like that…” She gave up any further attempt to explain. The damage was done. It was of no use.

Mrs. Tournier saw her niece bend her head and study her hands that lay helplessly clasped on her knees. She sighed and took one of those hands in hers.

“My dear. Is there an understanding between you and Mr. Darcy?”

“No, Aunt, there is only friendship.” Her heart broke at having to utter those words, and she did not look up.

Her niece seemed so small, and Mrs. Tournier could see how she fought to conceal her feelings by keeping her eyes lowered. She reached out her hand and turned her chin up, thereby forcing the girl to look at her.

“I have to say, my dear, that that is a tragedy, and do not for an instant think I am talking about propriety. What has this man done to your heart? And what have you let him do? I know you. You have formed an attachment, have you not? And he does not return it. Oh, you poor girl! This is all wrong. But how could you have been persuaded to meet him clandestinely? How could he have allowed you to? It does not make any sense, and you can be certain I will have no qualms about telling him so!”

“Oh, Aunt, no! You cannot say anything to him! He is not at fault. His character is not in question. He agreed to it only because I asked it of him, and he is a gentleman. Perhaps we both did not think it through, but it is done, and I shall end it now, but you cannot place the blame on him.”

She saw the determined yet doubtful look on her aunt's face, and she could not bear that Mrs. Tournier would think ill of Mr. Darcy. Of herself it was of no matter, for she deserved it, but not him. She would not be responsible for harming him yet again in the eyes of others.

“Aunt, I have known Mr. Darcy for some time and I have no doubt as to the quality of his character, and I will not have it be questioned because of gossip or any thing you think you might rightly or wrongly perceive about my feelings for him.”

She was gently crying now as she looked pleadingly at her aunt.

“Please know that this was all my doing. I allowed myself the illusion that I could spend time with him as a friend would. I thought it would be nothing to meet with him, but I erred when I insisted it remain a secret, for I would not allow the chance that Holly would talk me out of it. I am to blame! I am! Not he. You cannot make things worse by speaking to him about it. It is my humiliation, not his to own. For me, please, I beg of you, promise me you will not, or I shall leave for Longbourn this minute!”

Mrs. Tournier raised her eyebrows at this outburst, which only confirmed her earlier suspicions. She pursed her lips and looked at her niece’s distress. This was worse than she thought. It is not mere flattering attention and thoughtlessness; this girl cared for him and has probably been working very hard at concealing it from him and the rest of the world. She handed her a handkerchief and held on to her hand.

“You will stay right where you are, my girl. Do not speak nonsense to me on top of everything else. Mr. Darcy has been stupid, negligent and possibly even cruel. I cannot think what has persuaded him to act so dim-wittedly.”

She held that thought for a moment but was determined to come back to it at a more appropriate time.

“And you are very right. You will end this! If he should want to see you and play games with you he shall have to do so in the open where his peers can judge his conduct and his respect for you and your companions can be assured. You know that is how it is to be.”

“Madam, you will force me to reveal things that will wound more than myself in the telling in order to acquit Mr. Darcy in your eyes? Mr. Darcy has not behaved stupidly, negligently or even cruelly towards myself or anyone else! You began this talk by saying that you had full confidence in my character and judgement. Saying that I was fully capable of guarding my own interests and deciding my own life. Has your judgement of me become so altered by this event that you now no longer think that?”

She stood up and paced in front of her aunt. Turning to her she gave her a most beseeching look.

“Aunt, I will end it in the morning, that I promise, and I am fully sensible of why it should be done. But I cannot let you think that Mr. Darcy plays games with my heart! He is not that sort of man! If you will not promise me that you will not speak to him about this rumour then I will not stay. I will go and pack now! I assure you that I am in earnest.”

Mrs. Tournier looked at Lizzy with real concern. She was angry now – perhaps that was a good thing – yet her words were desperate, and that was not good. Her heart was hurting and Mrs. Tournier seriously believed something was lacking in this affair, and she had a pretty good notion it had to do with Mr. Darcy and his motives.

“Lizzy. Do not threaten me. That is most unbecoming and does nothing to underscore your feelings in my eyes. I will give your judgement credit and concede Mr. Darcy not to be a villain if you say so, but there has certainly been a great deal of foolishness on both sides. He should have known better. That was not a question put to you to confirm or deny. It is a fact. It is also a clearly visible fact that there is a great deal more feeling on your side than mere friendship. That is no crime, but neither is it an excuse.

“Calm yourself, my dear. Please do not think I blame you or that my confidence in you is shaken. Mr. Darcy I am not so certain about, but I am willing to give him the benefit of my doubt. You have my promise not to confront him about any rumours that have reached me if it makes you easier.”

Lizzy felt a great wave of relief flood over her. Her aunt may not agree with her reasons, in fact she did not even know them all, but she would stand by her word. Lizzy could depend upon that as surely as she could depend upon the sun continuing to rise.

But now she had another problem. Her aunt, in not knowing it all, also knew too much. She was sure there was no way to take back what she had said in the heat of emotion about her feelings, but surely she could soften it somewhat.

“I will not lie and tell you that I feel nothing for him, I think I have said too much for you to believe that anyway, but I will tell you that I am resigned to friendship with him. I have been trying...” she would be lying if she continued with that sentence as she had not tried very hard there at all, and so she quickly amended it, “...I am now endeavouring to have my emotions and my thoughts match that resolve. I will succeed in my efforts. I know I will. I just need time to do so. You need not worry on that account.”

“Fiddlesticks!” Mrs. Tournier released her niece’s hand and handed Lizzy her teacup. “Save your breath on that score, please. The solution to your dilemma is far from that wool you are trying to pull over my eyes. That is all nonsense.

“So, you will see Mr. Darcy one more time, am I right? Well, when you get back I will be here. And I will be here for as long as you want and need me. But I suggest you use some of that famous wit and intelligence of yours before tomorrow, by yourself and for yourself, undisturbed and sincerely. And let me be plain about one thing: there is nothing in this affair that can seriously harm your reputation - do not give that a thought, I do not, since I have faith in you - but I fear serious damage has already been done to your heart.”

Lizzy filled her aunt’s cup and turned to hand it back. There was nothing left to say on the subject of her heart now. Her aunt would not believe her if she said anymore regarding its state or her intentions to correct it. She did not know if she could believe herself as far as that was concerned. And as to using her wit and intelligence to solve this… What could she possibly say to Mr. Darcy that would fix this blunder that she so blindly led him into? Did her aunt expect miracles? Did she realise her very advice seemed to mock her by insinuating that she had it somehow within her power to repair all of this – to make it go away? Surely not!

Still standing before Mrs. Tournier, she spoke at last. “I thank you for your advice and for your assurances that you will be here for me should I need you. Holly is lucky in having you for a mother, for she has what I have never had in one. Someone to stand behind her no matter what comes her way.” She gave her bravest smile.

“I will go and have a rest if you will excuse me. I find myself rather understandably tired right now.”

She leaned down and planted a kiss on the lady's cheek and turned to make her way out of the room, full of anguish and worry for what the morning would bring.

Mrs. Tournier watched her move silently towards the door.

“Lizzy!” she called. Her niece turned around in the doorway. “I think you should avoid your room and any solitary walks this afternoon. Be a dear and go by the kitchen and fetch a hamper. Higgins is busy with that eternal supply of grouse she seems to be cursed with, and she needs help with the gooseberries. I have ordered gooseberry fool for dessert, you know, and somebody needs to pick them.”

She was rewarded with a faint smile as her niece closed the door behind her, and Mrs. Tournier was left rubbing her locket, lost in her thoughts for a good while.

Lizzy had gotten the basket from Mrs. Higgins, both of them awkwardly avoiding meeting the other’s eyes. She made her way into the garden and to the well-kept gooseberry bushes. Oh, how she wished she were at home right now and had Jane with her. She so needed an understanding soul and the seclusion of her own refuge. As she knelt, it struck her as ironic that her aunt should choose this task for her, as one who 'played gooseberry' meant that one was to take the role of chaperone, and she could not help but realise that her aunt would be doing that most diligently from now on.

She knew in her heart and head that her aunt's intentions were for her to keep occupied and worry less, but even the best of intentions sometimes go awry. The task was just mindless enough to allow her thoughts to wander to tomorrow and her task ahead.

How would Mr. Darcy take her information? Surely the riding lessons meant so much more to her than to him, so he would not mind terribly if they ended. But she had put his good name at risk once again in more ways than one. She did not think he would appreciate that.

Suddenly she saw him in her memory, kindly asking her to trust him, and she could not help but think that she could. She did trust him. Implicitly. It would be all right. It just had to be. He said he always stood beside his friends. He would stand beside her.

Thinking of him is such a way brought the memory of his embrace around her waist on the ride this morning, and she blushed involuntarily at the feelings that shot through her body at the memory of his touch. She knew his holding her was only motivated by concern for her safety, which only made the memory all the more bittersweet.

She heard the sound of horse's hooves and saw Monsieur Vian coming back from somewhere. She had forgotten about him and now moved to conceal herself better behind the bushes. She did not wish to speak with him at the moment. Once he was safely gone and could not see her, she quickly finished with her task and took the berries to the kitchen. She endeavoured to meet the housekeeper's eyes this time, to let her know that all was well between them. She knew her own bad judgement was not this lady’s fault after all. The woman returned her smile and Lizzy helped her clean the berries before she slipped off to her room, avoiding further contact with the Frenchman and her aunt.

She spent the rest of the day there, but her aunt would not allow her to claim a headache when she had come to finally collect her for dinner, so Lizzy was forced to sit the rest of the evening with the two of them. Monsieur Vian tried to engage her in conversation, constantly sending smiles her way that she found a great deal of trouble in returning. Her mind was barely able to follow anything that was said. Her thoughts were constantly wandering to the next day -- and to Mr. Darcy.

Darcy returned to Clyne and found his friend in the library.

“Brougham, do we have any social obligations in the near future?”

Brougham slowly lifted his head from his volume and studied Darcy’s features. The question was brief and the tone neutral. Brief questions in themselves were nothing unusual. Neither was such a tone. He wondered if the time and silence that had passed between them since yesterday had calmed Darcy down or had possibly made him reflect on his own words if he would not regard what had been said to him.

He sighed, “Social obligations.” The one thing he had never associated with Clyne before. Now, it seemed they were a necessity.

This morning he had left early to go out on the glen to hunt. Alone. He had travelled a fair distance and had been trying to enjoy the fine weather. It was glorious – the wind, the space, and the big sky – and then it had hit him in a flash. He was bored. Unspeakably, outrageously, infallibly bored.

Brougham had stood watching the grouse fly over his head, over the next fell with his gun resting on his shoulder and he had not the slightest inclination to shoot them. And then there was Darcy. Not that one saw much of him these days, and when one did he acted like an ass.

He had thought of only one place where he might tolerably recover his spirits and find an amusing challenge and company. He had fished out his watch and decided that he would take tea at Rosefarm cottage that very afternoon. There would perhaps be some interesting news of some sort as well. And Miss Bennet! Yes, that talk with Darcy yesterday had been interesting but volatile, and he was quite certain the issue could do with some exploring from another point of view.

“I am going down to Rosefarm Cottage this afternoon. Mrs. Tournier was kind enough to ask us to tea at our convenience. Care to join me?”

“Brougham, yes, that is what I was asking about, but as I understand it we are expected not today, but the day after tomorrow.” Darcy hesitated, “I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Bennet during my morning ride, and she was kind enough to convey the invitation to me. From what I understand they have a newly arrived guest, and some privacy is in wont before he will be sufficiently accommodated.

Brougham narrowed his eyes, and his face sunk into what could only be described as a sulk.

“Did you now? A guest, you say. Very well. I can find something else to occupy myself with. Plenty of things to do, you know,” and he raised his book up high to hide his face and immersed himself in Mme de Staël’s De l’Allemagne.

“Very well” Darcy picked up a random book and sank into another chair.

They had a quiet evening. Darcy could see what an ungrateful guest he must be to his friend. Lately their talks had become scarce and their arguments unsolved. Neither of them really wished to make the other privy to his thoughts.

Yet, as Darcy sat on the windowsill in his chamber that evening and breathed in the sharp air of the coming night, his thoughts were not focused on his friend but instead once again wandered to his morning ride with Elizabeth. He was bordering on the edge of propriety. He knew that well. Yet he could not say he regretted even one thing. The touch, the sight, the scent, the smile… Everything was settling now into a composition of the most cherished reminiscence.

He leaned his head back and sighed. These last few days were the happiest in his life. No matter what the future might bring he would always have those memories. Yet, there was something more. Something that he could not quite grasp still escaped his comprehension, but its restless presence rattled his soul. Something in what she had said or in how she had said it – or maybe it was how she looked at him today – had brought to mind the disturbing hope that there could still be more than just this.

Their resolution to become friends had its difficult aspects. Not really the ones that Brougham pointed out to him. The most troublesome for Darcy was the need to distance himself to it, not to lose himself in an illusion that might be nothing more than his own creation.

He had never had a woman for a friend. The closest thing to it might be his sister, and while he was with Elizabeth he tried to treat her exactly like that. Yet, whatever his thoughts were, that is one thing she was exactly not, and he could not hope to fool his own feelings, even if he wished it. She did not, and never would, feel to him like sister in his arms. Although he was prepared for that, it now clouded his judgement. He was so likely to read too little or too much into events.

What were her feelings while nestled in his arms? If as a sister’s, he should not read too much into it, but if not, it would be more than enough for encouragement. Yet, knowing how encouraged he felt before, when she did not even hold positive feelings towards him, what he was experiencing now might be nothing more than just her relaxing in his company and treating him for what he strove to be - a friend, a brother.

He rubbed his temples. How was it possible that he always felt so relaxed when in her sole company, yet always so tense when thinking about her?

Something should be decided. It was damn risky to ask for her hand once more. If she refused he was on the verge of losing everything, yet there was everything to gain as well. And it was his own life that was at stake.

Their morning rides were a unique opportunity. He would never get so close to her otherwise. Not even at Longbourn, and certainly not here under the shrewd eye of her aunt. He was assured that Mrs. Tournier was a good woman, but he also knew that she was one who would never turn her eyes away to allow them even a bit of privacy. The woman’s own curiosity would always overpower any consideration of due respect for the feelings of others. He would not be opposed to open courting, but he would loath a spied one. That was different. That would also put Elizabeth in very uncomfortable circumstances. Had she not wished his attentions, her aunt was too likely to try and impose her own opinions, pushing her in unnatural ways. It might, in fact, be worse for Elizabeth than any effect Mrs. Bennet might have.

No, Rosefarm seemed the worst idea possible. If anything was to be done, it should be done now, before the weather would make their lessons impossible.

Elizabeth knew about his feelings for her. Perhaps he should be more direct in letting her know that, if she were willing to reconsider her answer, it would not be beneath him to renew his offer. Perhaps he should be choosing his words more carefully from now on and form his questions more openly, giving her a way to let him know if she would like to share her life with him one day.

He threw his head back. He felt terrified. Yet he would try. He knew he would.

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