Page 11 of Pemberley's Imposter
Elizabeth was grateful for the seeds her father had given her to grow her own food. She had even bought three chickens, adding eggs to her bread and porridge diet until the produce she had sown was ready to harvest. The mere thought of fresh vegetables made her mouth water.
Sugar was another commodity she could ill afford, so she tapped birch trees of their sap and carefully boiled it down to a syrup, but it burnt easily. Elizabeth guarded the pot vigilantly until she managed to produce a couple of jars’ worth of the sweet liquid. If only she could have spared five or six shillings on the cheapest grade of tea. But it could not be helped, and there was no use crying over spilt milk. It would have to suffice that porridge tasted much better with added sweetness.
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Netherfield, April 1813
“The Darcys are in town. Caroline spotted Mr Darcy escorting his sister to Madame Clarissa’s yesterday. Perhaps we should pay them a visit when you are feeling better, dear,” Charles Bingley informed his wife with concern she might become too exhilarated about the tidbit.
“Yes, I would be delighted to see Lizzy again. I have not written to her about our blissful news but saved it until I can see her face when I tell her.” Jane smiled with a dreamy expression that turned into a sweet frown. “It must have been an impromptu journey because Lizzy did not mention it in her last letter. I hope it is not another emergency, like the one that sent them with due haste to London just before Christmas.”
“I doubt it. Darcy mentioned nothing untoward in his letter,” Bingley replied, aiming to assuage his wife’s concern. “Your sister has thrown the entire house into chaos with her renovations. Even his study has changed location. Not that he was complaining. Darcy has expressed only happiness in regard to the modifications. Marriage must agree with him.”
“Well, that explains why Lizzy’s letters are full of tasks she must accomplish. She is secretive about what exactly she is doing, though. I was beginning to grow concerned that she wasfeeling overwhelmed by the management of such a great estate, but making improvements is a pleasant occupation. They must still be working on it since she has yet to invite us to visit this summer as we agreed upon at our wedding. She must be planning to surprise us. We must school our features when we arrive at Pemberley and not divulge that we already know!”
“That will be no hardship. Pemberley is such a magnificent estate, we are sure to be dumbfounded for the first week and a half.”
Jane laughed and kissed her husband lightly on the cheek.
“I cannot wait to witness the splendour of my sister’s home.”
Chapter 5 Truth Be Told
London, June 1813
“Darcy! I thought it was your rigid back I saw leaving Hatchard’s.”
Darcy slowed his pace but hesitated to turn to face his pursuer. He had hoped to avoid the meeting altogether, believing Bingley was not in town given that his wife was supposedly in a delicate condition. Either he was wrong or Mr Hurst’s conjectures had been faulty. He had encountered Bingley’s brother on a rare visit to White’s and thought it strange that his friend had not mentioned such happy tidings himself in the one letter he had deigned to write since marrying Jane Bennet. But on second thoughts, it could have been lost in the illegible part. Hurst was usually a perceptive fellow; despite looking as though he was half asleep most of the time, very little escaped his notice.
Darcy turned and met Bingley halfway. His friend looked stunned to behold him, and he had to glance down at his apparel to make sure he had not sullied himself.
“What a pleasure it is to see you, Darcy. I was wondering whether you would ever leave Pemberley after you had secured yourself a wife and no longer needed to attend events in town.But I can see that you have been ill. I hardly recognised your gaunt-looking features. I pray you are recovered?”
“I am in excellent health,” Darcy protested. He had not been ill and was certainly not looking gaunt.
“Capital! Are you by chance going to Princess Lieven’s at home tonight?”
“Yes,” Darcy replied while pondering Bingley’s flippant remark about his wife. He must have been informed of their estrangement by now, even though he had not mentioned Mrs Darcy in the one letter he had sent. Netherfield was but three miles from Longbourn, and Mrs Bingley and her sister had always been close. He had expected an upbraiding for tossing her out into the cold, no matter how much the callous treatment had been deserved. Could Mrs Darcy have concealed the truth about her perfidy?
Marriage had not made Darcy any more loquacious, nor had it made him less inclined to scowl. Bingley, however, had always been inured to his glares.
“Splendid. Jane is anticipating seeing her sister. Oh, there she is, looking ready to depart. We shall see you this evening, Darcy.”
Darcy followed his friend’s gaze and bowed to Mrs Bingley, who stepped out of the haberdasher, saving him from replying to Bingley’s remark. The aforementioned husband was now running towards his wife to guide her over puddles andbusiness cardsleft by the horses. Such solicitousness had been Darcy’s prerogative for a couple of short months. How content could a man be, though, when he was married to a Bennet sister? Bingley was impossible to bring low, but if anyone could achieve it, it would be a Bennet.
Was Mrs Darcy in town? No, it must have been one of her other unruly sisters Mrs Bingley was anticipating seeing. Mrs Wickham sprung to mind and made him shudder, while the pangs in his breast grew. Mrs Darcy was not brazen enough to flaunt her downfall in town before all and sundry. He involuntarily clutched his chest before he continued on his assignment to collect his sister.Annoyed, stunned, horrified.
Unfortunately, the seamstress had a mirror, and he could not resist stealing a glance at his reflection. Bingley was correct; he hardly recognised the man looking back at him. How could he not have noticed the marked changes in his appearance? The renovations must have taken a greater toll on him than he had realised. He had definitely lost weight, and he needed to spend more time out of doors because his complexion had an unhealthy greyish hue.
Darcy returned home with a new resolution added to his daily routine. There would be no more skipping meals, regardless of how little pleasure he derived from eating, and he would indulge in a morning ride whenever the weather allowed.
It was damn inconvenient Bingley was invited to Princess Lieven’s. He had not expected him to be welcome in the highest circle; yet he no longer had any reason to avoid him. Darcy had expected Bingley to side with Mrs Darcy, regardless of who was at fault. He should have known Bingley was his friend, as he had proved in their previous dealings, but the calamity with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mrs Darcy had made him wary of trusting anyone at all. Another fault Darcy could blame Miss Bennet for, if he allowed himself to think of her—which he did not.
Darcy was unusually on edge when he entered Princess Lieven’s house with his sister on his arm a few hours later. It was a crush, which might allow him to evade Bingley—not because he wanted to avoid him specifically, but his wife was anothermatter entirely. She reminded him of someone he wanted to purge from his mind. The only redeeming quality of the evening was that he would not be expected to dance as there was not any dancing at this event.
Darcy and his sister had been there for the required two hours and were on their way out when he finally happened upon Bingley. Had he not been considered a gentleman, he would have cursed this stroke of misfortune. To make matters worse, Mrs Bingley was attached to her husband’s arm.
Mrs Bingley was on her toes, as if she was trying to gauge whether he was hiding someone behind him. He was not. It was only him and his sister. Exactly as he preferred it.
