Page 50 of I Thee Wed
Mrs. Bennet wrung her hands and wept with a vehemence that matched her daughter’s outbursts. “Oh, Mr. Bennet, how can you be so hard-hearted? To take away my youngest, my sweetest, my liveliest child! My nerves will never recover. Lydia, my love, you shall die of melancholy at that horrid school. I shall die too, for want of you.”
Mr. Bennet, unmoved, stood with arms folded, and merely raised his brow at the lamentations of both wife and daughter. Mr. Bennet motioned to Samuel. The footman advanced toward Lydia, prepared to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out. Lydia continued to shriek and protest, but when his hands touched her waist, she cried out,
“No! You shall not carry me like a sack of potatoes! I will walk, I will walk!”
She flounced out the door and threw herself into the carriage.
Mrs. Hill leaned heavily on her husband and whispered, “Take me to the housekeeper’s office. I need a stiff drink.” In the little office, she took a swallow of brandy, then offered one to her husband. “Good riddance, say I. Perhaps at last we shall have some peace.”
Mr. Hill nodded. “The maids will be grateful. Only three days ago, Miss Lydia threw her brush at Alice. She is a demon child.”
Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, was frantic. She clutched her husband’s sleeve and cried, “How can you be so cold? I shall not survive without my darling girl. My heart shall break!”
But Mr. Bennet had endured enough. He turned upon his wife and said firmly, “Mrs. Bennet, your behavior is unbecoming. If you do not compose yourself, I declare I shall retain Miss Farrow here in Hertfordshire, not for Lydia’s sake, but for your own. You, madam, shall be instructed in the deportment of a gentlewoman, if she can be prevailed upon to undertake so great a challenge.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped, her sobs checked by astonishment. “Mr. Bennet! You would not dare…”
But her husband only stared her out of countenance, until a glimmer of amusement lit his eyes. “I would indeed, madam. It is my duty to the future happiness of our daughters and grandchildren. I should not like my descendants to be ashamed of their grandmother. If Miss Farrow succeeds with you, she shall be accounted the finest governess in England.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled, and he entered the carriage with Samuel seated next to the coachman
Chapter 34: Smugglers
Elizabeth was already in the folly when Darcy came upon her the next morning. She sat with her journal open upon her knee, pen moving swiftly, the little basket at her side. He paused at a distance, watching her bent figure, the early sun catching at the loose tendrils of her hair. She looked so entirely absorbed that he might have stood and watched her for several more minutes, had his curiosity not prevailed.
When at last she looked up and saw him, he entered. She smiled up at him, removing the cloth that covered her basket.
“We were in Westerham yesterday,” she said. “Cook reheated these for me this morning. They are a day old, but I believe they taste as fresh as if they had just come from the oven.”
Darcy pulled back the napkin and found four warm scones nestled there.
Elizabeth grinned. “I confess I already ate one on the way. They smelled too good.”
He took one and, in one bite, dispatched half a scone. “Better than half the breakfasts I have endured at Rosings,” he declared. A moment later, the second followed the first.
“I brought three for you,” Elizabeth teased. “Take the cloth, or you will devour the basket as well.”
He leaned back against the cold stone wall, the parcel upon his knee, looking far too satisfied for a man contented with day-old scones. Elizabeth poured hot coffee into two small cups. She added cream and sugar and handed one to Mr. Darcy.
“Miss Elizabeth, you spoil me.”
She laughed. “You are welcome to think so, sir. But I like to spoil myself. You are merely fortunate enough to benefit from my efforts.”
“I saw a broken fence along Carthorse Lane,” she said.
“How wide was the gap?” he asked.
“I would say about eight feet, and it looked as though a herd of horses had run through it.”
“I shall ride there this morning. Richard is riding the northern boundary today. Where do your visits take you, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Mary and I are dividing the parish. Lady Catherine is lending us two gigs so that we may visit more people. I shall be on the outskirts of Westerham.”
Darcy frowned. “That is five miles away. Is there a footman who can accompany you?”
“No, but Mary is sending the gardener with me. After my visits, we shall stop in Westerham. He will buy seed for next spring’s garden, and he also hopes to find some bare-root fruit trees for a tiny orchard Mr. Collins is going to plant.”
Darcy rose suddenly. “I just remembered a hidden garden that I should like to show you. Sir Louis planted some bare-root ornamental trees there before Anne was born. Leave the basket and your journal here. I want to show you something. The path is overgrown, but the destination is worth the effort.”
