Twixt Two Equal Armies (8 page)

“So,” Baugham finally said. “Now you have seen me, what next?”

Darcy looked at him for a while.

“Dinner, I should think,” he said at length. “If you’re so inclined.”

“Oh, I think so, however sore and tired I am. I will go wash; Mrs McLaughlin will be displeased enough as it is, thanks to you. I see you’ve made yourself quite at home already, so if you’ll excuse me . . . ” Baugham’s words tapered off as he left the library.

Darcy gave a crooked smile and waved an impatient hand at his back. When he heard the door close, he found himself abandoning any thoughts on his awkward arrival and his host’s wounded sensibilities, instead pondering whether it would be too soon to inquire about neighbours and inhabitants of near-by villages as part of the upcoming dinner conversation.

T
HE GIRLS WALKED PAST THE
trees dotted with the chaotic lumps of black crows’ nests. The inhabitants screeched as they passed and some spread their dark wings against the blue sky and flew away.

“They remind me of what it was like to walk into Meryton after the news of Lydia’s elopement,” Elizabeth said dryly. “So many hurrying off to spread their screeching opinions on the state of our nest, even though theirs were hardly models of propriety themselves.”

“You must have been very angry,” Holly said. “I mean, knowing what he was.”

“Yes. Angry. Ashamed. Desperate. Sad.”

They had set out that drizzly morning with baskets to scour the countryside for wild herbs and mushrooms before the frost set in — and to talk. They had walked a fair way before either said anything, but when she finally spoke, Elizabeth told her all about that terrible time of worry and confusion, when they did not know where Lydia was, or with whom, what her plans were or if she was safe or even alive.

Holly stole a look at Elizabeth walking slowly beside her. “Were you perhaps also sad for yourself?”

“Of course I was sad for myself,” Elizabeth answered with a short laugh. “If you had been at Longbourn during that time, you would not need to ask such a question. Who would not be sad to cut short a pleasant holiday in Derbyshire and return to such a scene?” She attempted a smile, but could not hide the edge of bitterness it held. Her cousin simply looked at her, so Elizabeth continued more sombrely.

“Yes, Holly, I was sad for myself — sad and disillusioned. At that time I was already feeling that too many of my strongly held beliefs had been proven wrong through the actions of others. I had proudly held such clear ideas on Charlotte’s sensibility, on Mr Bingley’s love for Jane, on his friend’s abominable self-conceit, and Mr Wickham’s goodness — even my own family’s behaviour, which I had always viewed as harmless folly — but Holly, how could I ever have imagined that Lydia’s morality would be as scant as her sense?” She sighed. “And through her actions came such censure and judgement upon the rest of us. Right at the time when I thought . . . ”

Leaving the path upon spotting a patch of currant bushes, Holly waited for Elizabeth to continue. When she did not, Holly tried to reassure her as she carefully plucked the berries and leaves.

“Don’t be too disheartened; at least one of your judgements has ended up being true. Mr Bingley’s love for Jane was steadfast after all, and incidentally, I doubt whether his friend has changed much in character, so you are likely safe in that area as well.

“And, as far as censure and judgement . . . it is obvious Jane is not suffering from it, and you have said yourself that the opinion of the neighbourhood is that the Bennets are now the luckiest of families — Lydia’s scandal is all but forgotten in the excitement of Jane’s marriage.”

“It is not just the opinions of the fickle locals that matter . . . ” Elizabeth began as they returned to the lane.

“Nonsense!” Holly cried with a light-hearted smile. “What else
does
matter? Who else would even know or care of it beyond your own small circle in Hertfordshire? And even if they did, what effect could such a thing have on anyone else?”

“Mr Bingley’s friend learnt of it and I fear it affected his opinion greatly. Holly, is not that mint over there by the stream?”

“Yes, Eliza, very good, I’ll make a scavenger of you yet! And look, there is Valerian close by as well.” In no time they were scrabbling down the bank and filling their baskets with more bounty from the countryside.

“But why should you care about Mr Bingley’s friend? We have already settled it that he is a proud and disagreeable man, but even so, he did allow Mr Bingley to return to Netherfield and propose to Jane, so the knowledge cannot have affected his opinion so greatly.

“Truly, Elizabeth, I doubt that anyone in ‘high society’ would bat an eye at Lydia’s behaviours — they likely seem tame in comparison to the goings on in Town during the season — but then, there do seem to be different standards for acceptable behaviour that vary considerably according to one’s circumstance, or one’s sex.”

“Well, you are perfectly right in that, Holly. It is only the sex of the offender that determines whether the offence receives winks and nods, or censure and shame.” Elizabeth’s brows wrinkled. “Holly, I cannot tell the Valerian from the weeds. Why don’t I gather the mint and you can carry out the difficult work.”

Holly agreed and began pulling and stuffing the roots into her basket. “That mint will be a nice change in the teapot, will it not? Oh, I had better leave some room in my basket for the rose hips. Further on down, toward the grounds of Clyne Cottage, are some hedges that have grown wild. Since we’re so close, we might as well see if there are any left from last year.

“But, about what you were saying, while there is a marked inequality in matters of morality, at least those who suffer from it are suffering due to their own actions and decisions. What
I
find to be even more grievously unfair are the antiquated attitudes toward education — as if only men, and only those men who are rich and high-born at that, are capable of improving their minds or even deserving of the chance to attempt it.”

“I should have known our conversation would somehow end up on your favourite subject!” Elizabeth said. “But you may have a point. I wonder . . . if Lydia had been taught something other than the importance of catching a husband, would things have been different for her. Of course, we were all brought up similarly, and it was impressed upon all five of us that we should seek to marry above all things, but what would the result have been if even a small attempt had been made to expand Lydia’s mind, and Kitty’s too?”

“Exactly,” Holly declared. “As it says in
Vindications,
most of us are taught only what we need to know to attract husbands and little of what is necessary to become desirable partners after the marriage takes place. What is so wrong with broadening the mind of the female so that she can carry on an intelligent conversation? Or have an opinion, well-thought out and of her own reasoning? Not everyone has
your
natural inclinations, Elizabeth, or Jane’s innate goodness, but most can be taught to think at least a little bit and control their impulses.”

Elizabeth was about to say something but stopped short. Holly sent her a quizzical look while she carefully bowed down over a cluster of hedgehog fungus and folded the withered leaves away.

“Elizabeth?”

“Impulses,” Elizabeth said. “Controlling one’s impulses. Is it a good or bad thing at the end of the day?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean an impulse can be offensive and rude and completely unwelcome and misguided and yet . . . there is always some truth in all impulses, don’t you think?”

“I suppose that depends on what you mean by truth,” Holly answered carefully as she cleared away the detritus hiding the mushrooms from view. “I would say that our impulses are more a reflection of our nature — they urge us toward what we
want
, but not what we
ought
. . . ” She laughed softly. “I am not explaining myself well at all, but I mean to say impulses are true, but it does not necessarily follow that they are good or right.”

“No,” Elizabeth said slowly, “certainly not always good or right. But a reflection of our nature — yes, that is well put. And isn’t nature always true?”

Holly looked thoroughly confused as Elizabeth met her gaze squarely. She stood up with a sigh.

“Holly, there was another proposal. And if Mr Collins’ offer based on pretentious aspirations and misguided feelings of propriety was too ridiculous to accept, this second one was scrupulously honest and forthright and equally impossible to accept as it was offered against all reason and sound judgement.”

All attempts at work were abandoned and Holly stared at her in confused amazement.

“I don’t think I understand you correctly, Elizabeth.
Who
proposed to you — and why would any such proposal defy reason and sound judgement? What possible argument could anyone have against you? It is preposterous!”

Elizabeth tried smiling wryly, but she did not quite succeed and looked pained instead.

“Mr Darcy. And rest assured his reasoning was good — excellent in its logic, in fact.” Her smile faded away. “His professed emotions were . . . well, at least very sincere and passionate. In fact, I suppose I cannot fault him for any of his words. Only the coupling of them together while forming an unexpected proposal of marriage.”

To Holly’s amazement Elizabeth seemed to wipe away something in the corner of her eye.

“Stupid,” she muttered.

“Mr Darcy? That unpleasant friend of Mr Bingley’s?”

Elizabeth nodded, apparently not trusting herself to speak quite yet. At the sight of her cousin’s distress, it took all of Holly’s self control not to give into impulse herself and begin a long rant against anyone who could cause her pain. A rant, however, is difficult to manage when one is as curious about the details as she was, so she deferred it momentarily.

Taking a deep breath, she asked as calmly as she could manage, “Will you tell me about it? What did this man say to you — what possible objections could he have had? And if they were so great, why did he propose at all? Has he no honour?”

Elizabeth hesitated. Of course, she remembered every word he had said to her that evening at Hunsford, but could she explain why she felt so very differently about them now than she had then? Nevertheless, this was the exchange she had so often rehearsed in her mind, anxious for the relief of putting words to her thoughts, so she began at the beginning.

“When Mr Bingley arrived in Hertfordshire last fall, he brought a small party of friends to the assembly rooms . . . ”

When she finished by repeating all Mr Darcy’s confessions and all his objections, both of them were blushing with emotion and the baskets with mushrooms and herbs had been abandoned on the ground.

“But you must understand, Holly, at the time I dismissed it as an embarrassment and despised him as before. But then there was the letter and then — ”

Holly’s head shot up and she fixed her eyes upon her cousin’s.

“Elizabeth! Do not tell me that you think
anything
he wrote in that letter in any way excuses the way he spoke to you just the day before! I see nothing in it that redeems his behaviour at all.”

“But Holly, he
did
warn me about Mr Wickham. He had very good reasons to doubt his character, but I was too pre-occupied with upholding my prejudices to take him seriously enough. And now Lydia is paying the price for my negligence.”

“Nonsense,” Holly scoffed. “Even his explanations about Mr Wickham were given too late and only to excuse himself — where was his concern when that scoundrel was freely roaming about Hertfordshire, charming your neighbours and defrauding the merchants of Meryton? His conscience was only raised when it reflected badly upon himself. So, not only has he participated in the downfall of one Bennet sister and actively sought to ruin the prospects and happiness of a second, he then proceeds to insult and degrade a third — along with the rest of your family. What excuse can there be? What does this man have against you, Eliza?”

“Besides my championing Mr Wickham’s cause at the expense of his own reputation, cheering my sister’s capture of his friend in opposition to his wishes and the publicly disgraceful behaviour of my entire family? Why, I have no idea, Holly.”

There were a thousand protests on Holly’s lips and she would gladly have given vent to each and every one in turn, but Elizabeth talked on, staring at her hands and not even noticing her cousin’s outraged expression.

“And despite all of this he admitted he ‘admired’ and even ‘loved’ me enough to want to make me his wife. Perhaps that is my greatest sin — making him want to go against everything he believes in. Making him give in to impulses he is ashamed of. Maybe that is why he dislikes me so much. And when I was at Pemberley with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and there was a safe distance from our differences, he was civil and even — courteous. Until he found out about Lydia. His regrets must have turned to relief in an instant.”

Holly’s face grew dark and angry. “
Your
sin!
Making
him go against
his
beliefs — give in to
his
impulses! What sort of rubbish are you speaking, Eliza? If you had deliberately set out to attract him I might understand your regrets, but . . . ”