The Poisoned Proposal Page 2

  Carefully, she edged out again until she could peer around the side of the trunk. Darcy had brought his horse to a halt. The big stallion wheeled in a circle, champing at its bit and pacing nervously, as Darcy tightened the reins and looked around the glade. He had the air of someone waiting for something—and a moment later, Elizabeth saw a figure appear out of the woods and approach him.

  From the powdered wig and formal uniform, she could see that it was a footman—and the lavish indigo-and-gold livery he wore suggested that he belonged to a household of formidable consequence. Darcy swung down from his mount and approached him. Elizabeth was too far away to hear what they were saying and she bit her lip in frustration. On an impulse, she turned and darted back along the grove, using the line of trees for cover as she attempted to approach the glade without being seen. Her kid boots made no sound on the soft forest floor as she carefully threaded her way between the bushes and finally came to a stop behind a tree, a few yards from Darcy’s horse.

  She was now able to make out the faint sound of their voices, but to her vexation, she was as yet unable to discern exactly what they were saying. They seemed to be taking great pains to keep their voices low and, from the furtive looks the footman kept sending behind him, there was no doubt that this meeting was a clandestine one.

  The footman reached into his jacket and withdrew a small, slim package. He handed it to Darcy who took it and secreted it within a pocket in his own riding jacket. Then he directed a quick question at the footman, who shook his head vigorously.

  Elizabeth strained her ears again, but still could not make out the words. In desperation, she took a step forwards. A twig snapped beneath her foot and the sound was as loud as a pistol shot in the quiet of the woods.

  CRACK!

  The horse whinnied nervously, shaking its head and blowing through its nostrils. Darcy jerked his head in her direction.

  Elizabeth froze.

  Had he seen her?

  The light was fading rapidly now and the forest was in deep twilight. She could only hope that in the dusky gloom, he would be unable to discern her form. Her breath came fast as she saw his gaze pierce the distance between them, but after a moment Darcy turned back to the footman and continued his previous conversation.

  Elizabeth let out her breath and slowly eased herself back against the tree trunk again. She could not risk going any closer, no matter how much she wanted to hear the exchange. A moment later, Darcy stepped away from the footman and swung himself back onto his stallion. Elizabeth heard his deep voice carry across the clearing.

  “… and not a word of this to anyone, do you understand?”

  The footman nodded curtly, then turned and melted back through the trees. Darcy swung his horse around and Elizabeth barely had time to drop down into the undergrowth before he came trotting past. She felt the rush of wind as the great animal moved past, then they were gone into the gloom of the forest.

  Slowly, Elizabeth rose to her feet and stepped out from her hiding place. Darcy was out of sight now and the only clue of his recent presence was the foliage which still swayed in his wake.

  What was the meaning of such a furtive encounter? What was in the package the footman had given to Darcy, and why the need for secrecy?

  Her head full of questions, Elizabeth turned and started back towards the parsonage. She was greeted upon her return by relief and exclamations of concern.

  “Eliza! Where have you been? We had begun to fear for your safety!” cried Charlotte as she met Elizabeth in the front hall.

  “I may have walked farther than I intended,” said Elizabeth apologetically. “I’m as yet unfamiliar with the paths in Rosings Park and did not realise how long the route would take to return.”

  Charlotte smiled. “’Tis of little consequence. Dinner is just being served and you have not missed a course.” She turned to lead the way into the dining room.

  “By the by, Charlotte…” Elizabeth said casually. “What are the livery colours for the house De Bourgh?”

  “They are a deep indigo, with gold trim,” said Charlotte. She glanced at Elizabeth curiously. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh… no particular reason,” said Elizabeth quickly, seating herself at the table. “I was merely curious. I imagine someone of Lady Catherine’s superior taste would have chosen a particularly impressive design for her livery.”

  Mr Collins looked up from his place at the head of the table and beamed. He said, with his mouth full, “Indeed, Cousin Elizabeth, Lady Catherine is a lady of impeccable taste in all things! The décor and furnishings at Rosings are a testament to her ladyship’s fine discernment and she has not only…”

  Elizabeth nodded and smiled, and tuned her cousin’s voice out as she began helping herself to the dishes at the table. It was a long time, however, before she could stop mulling over the encounter she had witnessed in Rosings Park.

  The next morning brought a happy surprise for Elizabeth: a letter from London from Jane. It had originally been sent to her at Longbourn, but had been forwarded on by her family. Elizabeth seized the letter eagerly and retreated as soon as she could after breakfast to peruse its contents in the privacy of her bedroom.

  My dearest Lizzy,

  Things continue most pleasantly here in Gracechurch Street. My aunt and uncle are all that is amiable and kind towards me and have been making a great effort to cheer my spirits. As part of their attempts, we have been going out in society more frequently, so as to provide me with distractions and the opportunity to make new acquaintances. It is very generous of them as I understand they do not normally follow such a hectic lifestyle, particularly with three young children to tend to, and I am exceedingly grateful.

  Earlier this week, we attended a music recital and I was at first discomfited to see Mr Bingley and his sister, Caroline Bingley, in the audience. I would have taken great pains to avoid them had not Mr Bingley himself approached us during the intermission. Miss Bingley came with him, but I must confess, I was greatly taken aback by her cold manner towards me. I am ashamed to say that I have been completely deceived in her affection for me. She made it clear that she took no pleasure in my company and felt the stain of scandal in my presence. She has obviously not forgotten the events of the Netherfield ball. I do not blame her for such sentiments—indeed, I pity her for I understand that it is anxiety for her brother that is the cause of her hostility towards me.

  Mr Bingley, however, was very different. At first, he spoke but little—and yet with every passing minute, he seemed to give me more of his attention. I fancied I saw an expression of embarrassment on his face when he spoke of the Netherfield ball—he apologised for ever doubting my innocence and begged my forgiveness for his lack of chivalry during that event. It was a great shock at the time, he said, and he was not himself.

  I was gratified by his apology, but I was determined not to repeat my previous mistake of trusting his declarations too implicitly. I was anxious that he should not find me too eager for his attentions and thus I took care to maintain a tranquil composure. I am pleased to say that I believe I achieved my purpose. It was publicly seen that on both sides, we met only as common, indifferent acquaintances. I returned to my aunt and uncle’s feeling easy—now that the first meeting was over, I felt that I knew my own strength and I should never be embarrassed by meeting him again, though I did not imagine that there would be much opportunity for our paths to cross.

  You can imagine my surprise when—not two days later—Mr Bingley called upon my uncle here in Gracechurch Street. They were some time in my uncle’s study and though I glimpsed him but briefly in the hall, his look was one of such warmth that I began to doubt my own resolve. He had come to invite us to dine at his townhouse and thence we went the next evening. Despite Miss Bingley’s cold reception, it was a delightful evening and I was surprised to find Mr Bingley most marked in his attentions towards me. In his every word and glance, there was a warmth which called to mind his previous behaviour to me in Hertfordshi
re.

  I must confess to still finding him the most amiable gentleman of my acquaintance and I know you will not blame me, Lizzy, for saying that I received his attentions with pleasure. I do not know whether to dare let myself hope that he may as yet care for me.

  Mr Bingley has learned that my aunt and I frequently walk in Hyde Park in the mornings and he has asked my uncle’s permission to escort us on the morrow. I am looking forward to the engagement and to further interactions with him, but I am attempting to be cautious with my feelings. I have seen evidence of his rapid defection during the events of the Netherfield ball and I do not wish to repeat such a humiliation. However, one accepts that a person may make mistakes and seek atonement—and I find within me a great desire to forgive Mr Bingley.

  Let me hear from you very soon and give me your interpretation of these recent events. I know I can always depend upon you, Lizzy, for an honest opinion, however blunt! I hope your journey to Hunsford was a pleasant one and that you are enjoying your visit with Charlotte Lucas. I shall write again as soon as I have further news to recount—and your address in Hunsford.

  Your affectionate sister,

  Jane

  Elizabeth put down the letter and smiled. Though she was not as ready as Jane to forgive Bingley for his desertion of her sister during the events of the Netherfield ball, she was pleased to see him making amends. In her view, there was no doubt that he was attempting to win back her sister’s affections. Jane had never ceased to love Bingley and Elizabeth knew that there was no other man who could make her sister happy. Therefore, if there was any chance that they could be restored to their previous understanding, she would welcome such a development.

  Mr Bingley was an amiable man, but he possessed a compliant temperament that was easily swayed by others—Elizabeth hoped that his supercilious sisters would not prevail upon him to reject Jane once again. If they did, then perhaps he did not deserve Jane! Any man who could not see the goodness of her sister was certainly not worthy of her affection.

  Elizabeth picked up the letter again, preparing to answer it immediately, but before she could sit down at her dressing table, she was interrupted by Maria Lucas bursting into her room.

  “Eliza! Come quick! There is such a sight to be seen!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Elizabeth dropped the letter on her bed and followed Maria out of her room, down the staircase, and into Mr Collins’s study, which had a large window that gave onto a view of the lane next to the parsonage. She had been expecting some disastrous sight—perhaps a fallen tree which had damaged the parsonage gardens or even a particularly magnificent specimen of deer which had wandered in from Rosings Park. Instead, all she saw were two ladies in a low phaeton that had stopped by the main parsonage gates.

  “Is that all?” said Elizabeth in disappointment. “What a to-do and it is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter.”

  “Oh no!” said Maria, shaking her head vehemently. “That is certainly not Lady Catherine. The older lady is Mrs Jenkinson, who is a lady’s companion, and the younger lady is Lady Catherine’s daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh.”

  Elizabeth peered through the windowpane. “Why does she not come in? It is abominably rude of her to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind.”

  “Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It is a great honour if Miss de Bourgh comes in.”

  “She sounds as conceited a creature as her mother,” said Elizabeth.

  Maria gasped, shocked at Elizabeth’s outspokenness. At that moment, Charlotte turned and spied them through the window. She beckoned with a hand. Elizabeth hesitated—she had no wish to wait upon a spoilt young madam, though she did want to support her friend. Making no great effort to hurry, she exited the parsonage and approached the gate.

  “Miss de Bourgh, Mrs Jenkinson, may I present my friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” said Charlotte.

  Elizabeth dropped a brief curtsy as she eyed the occupants of the phaeton curiously. Mrs Jenkinson was a thin, elderly woman with a beaked nose and bloodless lips that seemed perpetually pressed together in displeasure. She wore wire spectacles through which she peered at Elizabeth, looking her up and down with great condescension. Elizabeth was surprised at the companion’s haughty manner—perhaps the association with one so grand as Lady Catherine de Bourgh transferred self-importance to those in her employ as well!

  Elizabeth turned towards the other occupant of the phaeton, expecting to see a similarly arrogant countenance, and was surprised instead to see a young lady, not much older than herself, who seem to be swathed in a mountain of blankets despite the mild spring weather. Her face, which peeked out from beneath a large fur-trimmed bonnet, was pretty but pale, and as she looked at Elizabeth shyly, she attempted a small smile. Elizabeth found herself smiling back. This was not the Anne de Bourgh she had expected and she felt an instant liking for the girl.

  “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Anne, her voice so faint that Elizabeth had to strain her ears to hear. “I have heard much about you from Mrs Collins. She is fortunate to have so good a friend come to visit. I wish I had such friends as companions…” She looked wistful.

  Mrs Jenkinson bristled next to her. “Do I not provide you with loyal companionship, Miss Anne?”

  Anne turned swiftly towards her and laid a placating hand on her arm. “Oh, I meant no criticism, Mrs Jenkinson. Of course I have cherished your company these many years. But it would be nice to have the companionship of someone my own age.”

  “Do you not have friends from your childhood?” asked Elizabeth. “Perhaps another young lady from a local family who shared your education or play times?”

  Anne shook her head sadly. “My mother did not deem the children from the nearby families of an acceptable standard for me to mix with. I had private tutors and was rarely permitted to leave Rosings Park. Indeed, I have very few acquaintances my own age. Edwin… I mean, Mr Hargreaves, who is staying with us at present, is the only friend I have known from childhood. It has been lovely having him here, to have someone to discuss books and such with…” She blushed slightly. “But he is a gentleman and it is not the same as female company.”

  Elizabeth felt a stab of pity for the girl. What was it like to grow up in the shadow of a mother such as Lady Catherine de Bourgh?

  “Well, it is never too late to make new friends,” said Elizabeth impulsively, stepping forwards. “I shall be pleased to offer my services,” she added with a teasing smile. “We may find some areas of common interest, though I warn you, I am not the most accomplished of young ladies.”

  “Oh, that would not signify,” said Anne, her face flushing with pleasure. “I should be honoured to make a friend of you.”

  “Perhaps you would like to come in for tea, Miss de Bourgh?” asked Charlotte.

  “Oh! I should like that above all else—” Anne shifted eagerly, attempting to lift the blankets around her.

  “Certainly not!” said Mrs Jenkinson, frowning. “You have already expended your energies today with this morning’s visit to Hunsford village and the apothecary. You know that over-exertion could be disastrous for your health. You must not forget how frail you are, Miss Anne. Besides…” She looked at the parsonage and sniffed. “Such surroundings are hardly suitable for a lady of your rank.”

  Elizabeth felt a flash of irritation. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that if a lady of Miss de Bourgh’s consequence had no objection, her companion should hardly complain, but she restrained herself. She did not want to embarrass Charlotte by causing a scene.

  Anne looked crestfallen. “Oh… but surely a short visit is—”

  “Out of the question.”

  “Do not trouble yourself, Miss de Bourgh,” said Charlotte hastily. “We shall see each other tonight, for your mother has kindly invited us to her dinner party. I’m sure you and Miss Bennet will have ample opportunity to converse then.”

  Anne brightened. “Yes, I shall look forward to that.” She smiled shyly a
gain at Elizabeth. “And I hope the offer of friendship may still be open then?”

  Elizabeth was pleased to catch the teasing tone in the other girl’s voice. “It certainly shall.” She stood back from the gate with Charlotte as the phaeton moved on.

  “You have achieved something remarkable, Eliza,” Charlotte commented as they watched the phaeton turn into the entrance of Rosings Park.

  “What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth.

  “That is the most animated I have seen Miss de Bourgh in all the time since I moved to Hunsford. Why, I have never seen her smile with such pleasure or so much colour suffuse her cheeks. And for her to even attempt some teasing and banter!”

  “She is not what I expected,” admitted Elizabeth. “I had thought her to be a haughty replica of her mother, but she seems a sweet girl.”

  “Oh, she is not conceited in the least,” said Charlotte. “Indeed, she is nothing like her mother. She has always been most kind and civil to me—perhaps a bit too civil for propriety, for Mrs Jenkinson is constantly reminding her of her rank compared to my position. I fancy Miss de Bourgh would call more often and even come in to partake of refreshment, were she not with her companion.”

  “I could well believe it,” said Elizabeth darkly. “What a dragon! I did not like her condescending manner towards you at all. It is hard enough to suffer it from one of Lady Catherine’s consequence, but Mrs Jenkinson is nothing more than a companion and in no position to speak to you thus.”

  Charlotte laughed and put a hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “Do not fly into the boughs for me, Eliza. I have not your fiery temperament, nor your appetite for indignation. Such social slights do not vex me. I have a comfortable home, with much to entertain and please me, and that is all I ask. A few churlish words from a silly woman is hardly worth my fretting over.”