Scotch and Sirens - Lizzy and Darcy - Scotch and Sirens

Staring into the distance from the carriage window, her sight quite unfocused, Lizzy felt a bit dazed by the fact that she even found herself here. It was a little surprising to her how quickly her father had consented to her request to travel again so soon after arriving home from Derbyshire. Surely she thought he would not allow her to go gallivanting across England and into Scotland. Jane had insisted that Lizzy was fully aware their father would deny her very little when she applied herself to the task of asking something of him, but she herself was rather more convinced there was another reason.

She was sure her father had sensed an unsettledness in her of late, as hard as she had tried to hide it. Perhaps he felt it could be remedied by a visit away from home. He had gazed deeply into her eyes when she took her leave and had whispered to her, “Whatever peace you are seeking inside of yourself, Lizzy, I hope you find it in Scotland.” She had been touched beyond words and only had wits enough about her to hug him tightly and say, “Be well, Father,” as the carriage drove away.

Yet she was convinced a change of location was not what would quiet the turmoil she felt inside. Peace would come only when she had finally resolved to put any thoughts of Mr. Darcy behind her. If only Lydia would not have acted so rashly…

She sighed deeply upon thinking that thought for what seemed like the hundredth time. Even if she had felt reassured of Mr. Darcy’s regard for her during her visit to Derbyshire, it was painfully clear now that he would not renew his affections. She had fought long and hard with her own emotions and had also gone over all of the possibilities of what he might now be thinking. She was sure that if he had any further thoughts regarding her, they were only congratulatory ones to himself on his narrow escape. He probably considered it a triumph of a sort that he was saved from what he might have been pondering concerning herself. The way he had left her so quickly at the inn had confirmed it for her. He had removed himself from her presence with all due speed that day.

“Enough.” she said quietly and most resignedly to herself. “There are other concerns that warrant my attention and that I might actually do something about.”

She picked up the book that lay beside her and pulled Holly’s last letter from under its front cover. Turning it over in her hands, she wondered at it. It was short, too short in comparison to her normal letters, and only invited her to come for a visit. And while it said nothing else, its very briefness implied that things were not quite right where Holly was concerned. Of course it could have only been the cause of the same restless mood her cousin had conveyed in many of her other letters, but Lizzy was sure there was something more that was not written down in it. Well, she would find out soon enough, for she was nearing Rosefarm. Only a few miles more and she would see for herself if all was well with Holly or not.

She sincerely hoped the letter she had written would arrive before she did, but she would not be surprised if it did not. Mary, who had promised to post it for her, had forgotten to do it and did not remember that it had slipped her mind until the day Lizzy was to depart Longbourn. Well, she thought, they will be surprised when I show up on their doorstep unannounced but hopefully happy to see me all the same!

Looking out the window once again, her attention was caught by some figures in the distance. One was swinging a club through the air toward the ground. Her breath caught as she thought she recognised one of them, a tall, dark figure against the horizon.

“Silly creature!” she breathed to herself. “You will think you see him around every corner soon if you do not put him out of your mind!”

Mrs. Tournier gave a sideway glance at her daughter. This really was more annoying than she had first thought. Holly, who had managed to drag her outside to sit with her in the warm August afternoon sunshine, now made no effort to reward her for her sacrifice to the elements, but only sat silently on the garden bench with a book in her hand. That could have been an excusable deed if she did not at the same time stare aimlessly at the gladiola, smoothing the one and same page with her fingers, and giving small weak sighs with regular intervals.

Holly had plainly been in need of a diversion upon arriving home so despondent after unexpectedly losing her job, so Mrs. Tournier really did think she had been perfectly right in keeping the engagement with her friends the other night instead of cancelling. Holly had enjoyed it, that was plain to see, and when she had managed to assign Mr. Grant to the reading of the part of the half-deaf and half-blind grandfather of the play, her daughter’s eyes had glittered with mirth. Sir John had also been prevailed upon to laden his proposition for a drawing commission for Holly with a suitable amount of flattery and anxiousness, and so her daughter, thankfully, had had no qualms about accepting.

But of course it had been only a temporary fix, because here she sat again, definitely low in spirits. She, who usually was ever intent on activity and business, sat listlessly and – infinitely worse – had actually picked up a volume of Mr. Blake! It was a small consolation, indeed, to see that her eyes had not touched the pages for a full quarter of an hour.

Mrs. Tournier also knew Holly was despondent because she had not received an answer from her cousin Elizabeth. Since Mrs. Tournier knew her niece to not only be a diligent girl but also fond of letter-writing and especially her cousin, she could not rest easy in her outspoken opinion of the reliability of the post or many obligations at Longbourn. She did so wish that Lizzy would be able to come. Since she had sensed that Lizzy was also in dispirits it would have been the perfect solution, and it did tug at her heart to know both girls would be struggling with themselves and their feelings each on their own. To distance herself from these melancholy thoughts, she once again shot an eye at her daughter and felt her sadness give way to more customary irritation.

She reached out her hand, snatched the book from Holly’s own and pressed another volume in its place while she dramatically said:

“Ah, woe is me, my mother dear!
A man of strife ye've born me:
For sair contention I maun bear;
They hate, revile, and scorn me.

If you must fondle poetic pages, Holly, let it at least be Burns!”

Holly had been sitting in the sun, knowing she should rouse herself and try to be pleasant company. She laughed as she felt the one book snatched from her hands, to be replaced by her beloved Mr. Burns. She stood up, embraced her mother and wandered to the gate to look down the lane.

“Do you think we will hear from Lizzy today, Maman? I had so hoped she could come to visit.” And much to her mother’s irritation she let out a deep sigh as she searched the distance for signs of the postman.

Lizzy saw that they were pulling onto the path that led to Rosefarm Cottage. As they neared the house she saw Holly standing by the gate and could not contain herself. Leaning a little out of the window, all smiles, she waved for all she was worth. When the carriage stopped she disembarked into Holly's waiting arms. They hugged, happy tears streaming down both their faces, and neither let go until Lizzy saw her Aunt Arabella walk up behind them.

She pulled away from Holly, still holding both of her hands in her own, and laughed to her aunt, “Did my letter saying I would arrive come yet?”

“Well, my dear, here you are then! Quite spectacularly and dramatically, but I suppose that is the least we can expect from you, things being as they are.”

Mrs. Tournier leaned over to kiss her niece’s cheeks.

“I have a good mind to scold you for being a most unreliable letter writer and quite appalling in your manners, but your cousin here is on a sighing spree, and I am so happy to hand her over to a more appreciating audience. I shall only say I am very glad to see you, my dear, and I expect you both home for tea. I will now take refuge and well earned rest in my parlour.”

Holly was so thrilled by the surprise that she could only laugh at her mother’s words and her hasty retreat back into the house. The trunks were brought in and Holly saw with satisfaction that they appeared to be packed for a long stay. Lizzy was shown to a small bedroom right next to her cousin’s and, after freshening up and writing a short note to her father of her safe arrival to be sent back with the manservant who had accompanied her on her journey, the girls took tea in the shade of a large tree in the front of the cottage.

On the horizon dark clouds were gathering and the sounds of a late afternoon thunderstorm was carried on the breeze.

Holly, who had not stopped smiling since Lizzy’s arrival, turned her beaming face toward her, saying, “Oh, Cousin, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. What do you say to a short stroll after this storm passes – if you are not too tired from your journey that is?”

"As you well know the saying, if you are not happy with the weather in Scotland, just wait a moment and it will change! Yes, a walk after this blows over – if it even arrives – would be lovely!"

Lizzy gazed at Holly and then off into the distance at the coming storm. Based upon her cousin's countenance she judged that it was safe to at least enquire if there were anything amiss that she had not been informed of. Taking a sip of tea, and smiling warmly, she forged ahead.

"While we wait, will you share with me what you omitted from your letter inviting me here? That is if you feel I am not being too impertinent to ask such a question and you can bear to discuss it. Might I assume it has something to do with a gentleman, as your letters alluded to your current dislike for the company of all men? I do not wish to bring you discomfort, but I have been so worried for you."

The smile faltering on her lips, Holly took a deep breath and answered her. “Oh, Lizzy, I am not comfortable remembering just now, but then I think that I never will be. You are right, it is much better to get our disagreeable business out of the way and behind us so we may then move on to more pleasant topics.”

With this, Holly related the whole of her story, beginning with Mr. Tidwell’s unwelcome interest and attentions which began two years earlier, and ending with her humiliating removal from the school grounds because of that very man’s lies. As she spoke the sky grew darker and the thunderclaps louder while the storm drew nearer—as if reflecting the grim expression that was growing on Lizzy’s face.

Attempting to finish in a lighter vein, Holly concluded with, “I have a commission to illustrate the latest volume of Sir John Leslie's works, which will bring in nearly as much as I would earn for a year's work at Hockdown. So you see, it is of no great loss that I am no longer employed there. I will miss none of it, and Maman has written several scathing letters in answer to the “other” charges concerning my reputation. Of course, I expect nothing will come of it. A rich man can get away with saying and doing whatever he chooses. There. Now you have my story and with it the reason why I will never trust a wealthy and privileged young gentleman again. More tea?”

Lizzy laughed at the offer of tea that was given with such a light air in comparison to what had come before it. She smiled at her cousin, who had joined her in her laughter and reached out to put her hand on Holly's.

“Holly, you are too kind! I would love some more tea, but let me pour it.” As she did, she spoke heartfelt words of encouragement. “I can only imagine what you have felt through all of this. To be dealing with such a man for two years, and then to have it end this way! You have a right to be vexed, but at least you find the good in what has happened. That is something.”

She paused for a moment in contemplation before continuing.

“You know, I believe that you are serious about never trusting a wealthy and privileged young gentleman again. In fact, I believe that if an army of such men came over that hill this very moment you would turn them all away, and rightly so! For if one rich man is a scoundrel, surely they all must be! Yes, I think I will join you in your ban on such men. They are not worthy of the likes of us! They care only for appearances and rank. We can do without them! We will begin our search for butchers, bakers and farmers on the morrow. I insist! Perhaps we shall find a nice clergyman or shepherd who will suffice, but rich gentlemen are not to be considered!"

Lizzy took a sip of her tea. She had kept a serious expression, but her jest clearly showed in her eyes. Holly began to laugh.

"Trust me, dear Cousin. All will be well. You are strong, you have your mother behind you and you have me here beside you. What more could you need?"

“What more could I need? Nothing, absolutely nothing! Except perhaps an umbrella. The sky looks terribly foreboding, does it not?

“You make light of my determination to avoid that class of men, Lizzy, but believe me, I have had my fair share of exposure to that class and know of what I speak. I grant you, there may be one or two who are not scoundrels, but a lack of villainy merely exposes the spoiled vanity and cowardice that lies underneath them all.”

Holly was warming to her subject and suddenly stood and began pacing across the small lawn as she spoke.

“Where are the men of conviction!?! Where are the men who will dare risk their position and the censure of so-called proper society in order to do what is right!? Where are the men of compassion and charity who will stoop to give their fellow man a hand up!?! Oh, Lizzy, they are cowards all—who will risk anything but their own comfort, position and fortune!”

The sound of thunder suddenly rang across the sky. It seemed to emphasise and underline Holly's last words, and Lizzy shivered at the appropriateness of it.

“Perhaps they have all gone,” she whispered. She stared off into the distance, the light now extinguished from her eyes, and then turned back to Holly, decided.

“Perhaps they have all gone inside to escape the coming storm? But shall we chance things here a little longer? I shall tell you my story for you have touched upon it most aptly just now. What say you to a long tale of my recent folly? I trust it will be most entertaining, and I do owe you a tale of woe, do I not?”

With Holly's encouragement, Lizzy relayed some of her story relating to Mr. Darcy, as it began with her willingness to believe Wickham’s lies and concluded with him leaving her upon hearing the news of Lydia’s elopement, but she was careful to refrain from relaying her refusal of him at Huntsford, for she would not risk harm to his honour even now. When she had finished with the details of what she was willing to convey, she added, “Holly, I had begun to think he was the man that would suit me best, but I was wrong. It seemed he could not quit the sight of me quickly enough when he heard of the scandal my family then faced.”

“Oh, my dearest Lizzy, I am so sorry that you have been put through this. These men! Do they take perverse pleasure in watching the results of the wanton destruction that they so blithely execute upon us? What is it about the sight of a happy and contented woman? Why do they feel the need to swoop in and destroy our peace?”

Huge drops of rain began to fall.

“What silly gooses we are, Lizzy! There is no man who is worthy of such a display as we have made,” Holly continued, half-laughing. A mischievous grin appeared on her face, “I have a notion to defy all rules of society and spurn the conventions that require proper behaviour!”

She untied her bonnet, threw it aside, stepped out from underneath the protection of the old tree and began spinning and laughing as the rain fell hard and thickly upon her head.

“Will you not join me, Lizzy?”

Seeing Holly twirl there in the warm shower made Lizzy want to wash away her worries as well. She tossed off her bonnet along with her cares and left the shelter of the tree. Pulling the pins from her hair and letting it flow down to become drenched along with herself, she linked arms with her cousin and they danced until they could dance no more.

Wet, exhausted and happy, both girls returned to the house and entered the front foyer, dripping with not only the water they had collected, but with mirth as well.

Mrs. Tournier’s first inkling of the approaching thunderstorm was that suddenly the room went so dark she could barely make out the lines she was writing on her sheet of paper. Next, she heard the crackling of thunder and the rain heavily drumming on the roof and windows. Unable to write in her current location, Mrs. Tournier rose and ascertained the situation through the window. She expected her daughter and niece to be heard in the hall any minute, fleeing the rain, and so she rang for extra logs in the fireplace and some tea.

The tea duly arrived, but the girls did not. But after having waited half an hour, only hearing the gushing rain, she was suddenly interrupted by two laughing, drenched young women bursting through the door.

“What in the name of…?” was all she could utter but for her astonishment and their wild appearance.

The girls looked slightly sheepish, but there was such a glitter in their eyes that her own frown dissolved and she burst out laughing at the sight.

“Well, if this is not an unexpected consequence of self-incrimination and despondency! I see you have found a novel way of drowning your sorrows, indeed! Most commendable, but hardly medically approved…

“I think I may safely undertake my expedition to town tomorrow. I deduce it will be safe to leave you, since the rain surely must have stopped by then. I am going to see Mr. Stone at The Chronicle, and if you want me to pick up any materials for you, Holly, I would be glad to. I am walking down to Crossings and catching the post first thing in the morning.

“Now off you go and change out of those ridiculous clothes! Quite the members of the ton with those wet petticoats, are you not? When you are ready, join me for dinner. We can resume the carnival at some later date. Lizzy must be exhausted from her journey and in need of a good night’s sleep.”

Before retiring to their rooms to change both girls ran to Mrs. Tournier and encircled her in a wet embrace. Leaving her to sputter and exclaim at the indignity, they dashed up the stairs, the sounds of laughter trailing behind them.

Soon afterwards, wet things strung across the kitchen to dry, all three were seated around the table enjoying dry clothing, a hot meal and the blazing fire. After much talking and giggling, however, the fact that both girls’ eyes were growing heavy and that each found it necessary to stifle yawns did not escape Mrs. Tournier’s attention. She smiled to herself at their youthful follies and soon sent the girls directly up to bed. Without a word of protest, they both willingly obeyed.

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