Page 86 of To Love And To Cherish
"Mary is a dutiful daughter," Francis added. "If only Lizzy had been half so mindful of her family’s needs, Jane might have been married years ago, and I would have been spared so much anxiety."
He raised a hand. "Mrs. Bennet, Jane is now married to a wealthy young man of six-and-twenty. The match you once proposed, Mr. Ashworth, was not a sound one. Eligible, yes, but what is he now? A cripple, a drunkard, his estate mortgaged. Would you truly have wanted Jane tied to that?"
She said nothing.
"Do you love Jane?" he asked. "Answer me plainly."
She pressed her skirts and looked down. "No, I would not wish her to be in such a state. Mr. Bingley is wealthier than Mr. Ashworth, and Jane is very happy."
"Yes. And Elizabeth encouraged her to speak her mind. Jane acted of her own volition. It is time you lay aside your animosity."
Her face reddened. "That obstinate, headstrong girl!"
He stopped her with a look. "Elizabeth is dutiful and loving. She sews and knits for the poor, assists the doctor, and visits the tenants. She is clever and good. I must insist that you treat her with civility upon her return. You need not fawn, but you must be respectful. She is your daughter."
Frances glared at him but said nothing.
"Let me be clear," he continued. "If you mistreat her, I will cut off your pin money and deny you use of the carriage. You will walk to Meryton and make do with the dresses you have. Not one insult is to pass your lips, not now, and not when she is among us again. Have I made myself understood?"
She nodded.
"I see the anger in your face," he said quietly. "I will not permit you to show that face to Elizabeth. Begin your transformation now. And have Alice move her things into Jane’s old room. Clean it thoroughly. I want it ready."
Mrs. Bennet rose and left the room without a word.
Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. For the first time in many years, he felt he had acted like a father ought and only wished he had done so sooner.
Chapter 44: The Rose and Crown
Elizabeth slipped her arm through Mr. Darcy’s as they left the church, a warm breeze tugging at her bonnet. Inverness, with its grey stone buildings and wide skies, was lovely.
“I left a message with the clergyman,” Darcy murmured, as they strolled along the path bordering the River Ness. “With an added inducement to ensure the carriage and my valet find their way to the Rose and Crown by evening.”
“A bribe, you mean?” she asked, tilting her face toward his.
“A gratuity,” he corrected dryly. “A persuasive, well-earned gratuity.”
The inn, perched on a corner with cheerful yellow shutters and ivy climbing its southern wall, was just ahead. Darcy glanced at her. “I’ll take a room and order luncheon. If there is a private parlor, I’ll reserve it. We’ll remain only for one day. I want to travel south as quickly as possible to avoid inclement weather.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Shall we ride tomorrow morning?”
His grin was immediate. “If you wish. We shall see more of the countryside on horseback, and I should like to take in a bit more of this land before we flee it.”
“And you are not sorry to part with Ellan House?” she asked, watching him closely.
“Not in the least,” he said, without hesitation. “It belongs in Scottish hands. Someone who knows how best to manage the land, be it sheep, crops, or, in Lucas’s case, horses. I’m gratefulit went to someone local. I’ve no desire to continue supervising a steward from four hundred miles away.”
“You told me you came to Scotland in search of me.”
His smile deepened, amused and rueful. “I did. Selling Ellan House made an excellent excuse to chase you north and make polite conversation with the man who was doing his best to court you away from me.”
Elizabeth stopped. “I had no idea you were courting me.”
“Indeed?”
“You were, I don’t wish to insult you, but you were entirely opaque.”
“I was raised to cultivate impenetrability,” he said wryly. “What I showed and what I felt were often at odds. I don’t know when I first loved you, Elizabeth, perhaps from the very beginning, on that filthy London street. But it was unconsciously done. I didn’t know it myself until I heard your last letter.”
