Excentryke's Musings

Daisy Chains

Part the Fifth

When Bella returned back to the townhouse in Meryton, she could hear laughter from the parlor.  It was clear her mother had guests.  She made her way up to her bedroom, not even bothering to look in.  Her mother could make a fool of herself if she wished to.

She spent several days in bed, with a posset on her head.

Charlotte told her that Darcy stopped by on the second day with a bouquet of wildflowers.

Bella had them sent to the parlor for Renee to enjoy.  She did not wish to see them.

About three weeks after she arrived, she received another note from Edward.  It was possibly even shorter than the first.  Why do you not write?  EM.  She stared at it before throwing it in the Autumn fire.

What was she supposed to write?  How she had fought Renee over whether or not admit Darcy to the house?  Renee was determined to marry her off before Advent.  The lease was up by January, and Renee was determined that they should both be married by then.  Renee had options, even if Bella thought they weren’t very good ones.  Bella had only one choice—Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.

One September day when it was particularly fine, Darcy arrived when Bella was sitting in the kitchen, making a pie crust.  Charlotte was with her, packaging jam.  The doorbell sounded and Bella looked up.

“Who could that be?” Bella wondered aloud.  “Sir James is in the parlor with Renee.”

“Lady Swan asked decidedly not to be disturbed.”  Charlotte worried her bottom lip.

“Then whoever it is, turn him away,” Bella decided.  “If it is Mr. Hatfield, do not even take a message.  His attentions are not serious.  He is barely two and twenty.  Renee needs more serious suitors.  He should perhaps engage the Misses Long in conversation at the next assembly.”

Charlotte nodded.  Wiping her hands off on her apron, she went to the door.  Bella could hear it open and then went back to her work.  The apples were stewing on the stove.  If she timed it properly, the apple pie would be ready for dinner and she could serve it to Sir James Urquhart for dessert.  That would surely be fine.  They had some fine sugar cane that she could baste the pie with.

There were sounds by the door and Bella did not even look up.  “Was it indeed Mr. Hatfield?” she inquired.  “I hope you sent him packing.”

“Oh, mum,” Charlotte breathed, her voice apologetic.

Bella looked up. 

Charlotte was standing to the side, wringing her hands in her apron.  Darcy was standing tall in the doorway, his hat under his arm, his walking stick in his other hand.  Bella looked over at Charlotte in annoyance.  She shouldn’t have showed Darcy into the kitchen.  She should have put him in the dining room.

Bella continued pinching the corners of the crust to make a pattern, not bothering to stop her work.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Darcy, our solicitor is here and I simply must finish this pie.  We must show proper hospitality.”

Darcy took a further step into the kitchen, annoying Bella even further.

“Surely your solicitor should be speaking to you and not Lady Swan,” he posited.  “You told me you paid Carrie’s wages.  Surely it is your fortune that supports the household.”

Bella’s lips thinned.  She stood from her place and went over to the stove.  “That would be correct if this were a business call.  However, he has come to visit Renee personally as he cannot be without her society.”  She took out a wood spoon and stirred the apples.  They were just about ready.  “It would mean a restoration to her fortunes even though he only has a knighthood.”

“You do not speak of a restoration to your own fortunes as her daughter?” Darcy inquired carefully.

“I do not pretend,” Bella told him, “that I am part of my mother’s plans for her future.”  She turned to Charlotte.  “Carrie, it’s time for the apples.”

“Isabella,” Darcy chided.  “Surely your maid—”

“It takes two,” Bella told him as she and Charlotte took the stewed apples off the stove, holding it with folded towels and took it to the sink to drain. 

He made to come forward, but Bella pinned him with a look. 

“This is woman’s work.  You would merely get in the way or burn yourself.”

Falling back helplessly, he watched as Bella spooned the stewed apples into the pie and placed the pie crust over the top and began to baste it with lemon juice and sugar cane.  It took her all of seven minutes and Darcy carefully set his hat and walking stick down on the table, taking a seat beside her and observing her.  When she had Charlotte open the oven for her and slid in the pie, she instructed Charlotte as to the time and finally turned to Darcy.

“There.  You now have my full attention.  Sir James shall have my homemade pie and I may even be able to save a piece for you.”

He gave her a small smile.  “I do not like to see you slave in the kitchen, Isabella.”

Once again he was using her Christian name, and she did not like this new intimacy between them.  However, there had been liberties taken between them when she was at Netherfield, and she was powerless to turn back the clock. 

“I often baked at Kenbridge,” she informed him, now taking off her apron.  “I like to.”

“You shall only manage the kitchens at Pemberley,” he told her firmly, his voice brooking no contradiction.

Bella looked up into his verdant gaze.  She didn’t even think to argue that she should be at Pemberley.  It was all assumed by now.  Leading him out of the kitchen and into the small hall, she inquired, “Shall I send for tea or would you prefer I refreshen myself?  I do not know how much longer Renee will be sequestered with Sir James.”

“You may prefer to change,” he told her, and Bella turned to him in confusion.  She was sure she had kept her fine muslin from becoming streaked with flour.  He was smiling at her indulgently.  “I have come to take you riding.”

“I have not a horse,” she informed him.  “Surely you aware—”

He interrupted her.  Bella hated being interrupted and had to keep herself from snapping back at him.  “—I have brought you a horse.”  He approached her until he was so close to her that she had to crane her neck to look up into his eyes.  “Believe me, Isabella, I have thought of all possible objections.”

“You have not thought of Renee finding a prevarication—”

“Lady Swan is so keen for the match she can have no such prevarications,” he informed her with a self-satisfied smile.  “Besides, is not Lady Swan engaged?”

That was a fair point. 

“I shall fetch my riding shoes and pelisse,” she told him, brooking no further argument. 

Picking up her bare hand, that was a little dry from baking, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it, sending a shiver of dislike through Bella.  “I shall await your return.”

Bella was not a quarter of an hour.  She redid her hair to be more firmly pinned on her head, but forewent a bonnet.  Her riding gloves were placed in the back of a drawer, so she had to go searching for them, but she was able to find them after some difficulty. 

“Carrie,” she called when she came down.  “Tell Renee I have gone riding with Darcy and shall return by dinner.  Please watch that pie carefully.”

Charlotte bobbed her head and opened the door for them to leave.  Bella hesitated only a moment, looking at the parlor door, which still hid her mother and her suitor.  It was not entirely proper, but it could not be helped.

A boy was holding Darcy’s horse and the mare he had brought for Bella. 

After a brief bit of discussion, they agreed to ride toward Longbourn, as Bella wished to call on the eldest Miss Bennet.  Bingley had not been to see Miss Catherine since the party at Lucas Lodge a week and a half previously, but Darcy thought there might be an invitation in the offing.

“I do not believe Catherine has much to say for herself,” Bella mentioned carefully, looking over at Darcy.  “Is the attachment serious?”

“Not serious,” he told her plainly.  “Bingley often falls in and out of love.”

Bella pondered for a moment.  “Catherine is still young,” she decided, “and such is the fickleness of men.  They have not met more than two times in society.”

Darcy looked over at her from where he was riding atop his charger.  “You need not fear such fickleness.”

Bella looked down to where she was holding her reins.  If she were a girl in love, she would suppose she would blush.  However, she did not wish for Darcy’s attentions.  Quite the reverse in fact.  She only agreed to ride with him that afternoon because she knew Renee would take to shouting if she found out Bella had refused an invitation.  Bella liked nothing worse than being in Darcy’s company.

(She unfortunately had seen nothing of Dr. Cullen since he had attended her at Netherfield.  Now she knew his Christian name was ‘Carlisle,’ and she had whispered it to herself once or twice when daydreaming about him, but she doubted she would see him again unless she took another fall from a horse.)

“No,” Bella agreed, still not looking at Darcy.  “I know I do not.”

They fell into silence again.

“There is to be a card night at Mrs. Philips’,” Darcy mentioned after another mile. 

Bella, honestly, did not know who Mrs. Philips was.  She did not believe either she or her mother had been introduced.  “We did receive an invitation,” she agreed.  “It was issued two days after the militia quartered here in Meryton.  Most interesting.  Do you think they will be invited?”

“Officers are in society,” Darcy agreed.

Bella had seen her mother looking out the window at some officers.  She wondered if her mother would procure an introduction.  Surely it could be managed somehow, especially at a card party.

“Do you like a man in a red coat?”  The question was curt and surprising.

Bella quickly looked up and saw that Darcy was admiring the scenery.  “Certainly not!” she denied.  “The color quite hurts my eyes.”

Darcy turned to her, a small smirk on his face.  “My cousin is a Colonel,” he informed her.

“Where is he posted?”

“London at present.”

“I don’t suppose I shall meet him, then,” she supposed.

“He always accompanies me to visit our aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourg, in Kent every Easter,” he now told her.  “I suppose you shall meet him then if not at a happy occasion before.”

Darcy was, of course, referencing their wedding.  His cousin would surely be in attendance.

“Who else shall be there?” Bella asked a little cautiously.

If Darcy was surprised by the question, he did not show it.  “Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brother and sister, the Viscount of Owestry and Lady Julia Fitzwilliam.  Their parents, the Earl and Countess of Matlock.  My sister, Georgiana.  You know I have written to her of you.”  His eyes sparkled, which was unusual for him.

“How old is Miss Darcy?”

“Not yet sixteen.”

“Indeed.”

At no further inquiry into Georgiana, he continued.  “Lady Catherine de Bourg, my aunt, and her daughter, Anne, if her health should allow it.  Then there are my Darcy cousins, Frederick and Harold Darcy.”

“You do have many cousins,” she noticed.

“Not as many as some,” he assured her.

“More than I,” she assured him.  “There is my father’s heir, Sir Lewis, and his wife, Jane.  They have a little girl.  Eloise.  My mother has no close relations.”

“We shall have many people here in the local church,” Darcy surmised.

“We shall not know where to put them all,” Bella commented.

“Netherfield shall not hold everyone from the Fitzwilliam and Darcy families,” Darcy conceded, “and we need to house Sir Lewis and Lady Swan.”

“Do we ever,” Bella agreed, spotting a house off in the distance.  “Is that Longbourn?”

Darcy turned his attention away from her and up ahead.  “Yes, I believe it must be,” he agreed.  “It is not so well appointed as I was led to believe.”

Bella glanced at him.  She had seen many an estate the approximate size.  “It is not at all completely disappointing,” she refuted.  “Surely it can support a family of five young ladies.  It seems to have several gardens around it and you can see the farmlands around it.”

“Yes, but no tenants,” Darcy told her.  “There is no park either.”

“Surely you do not expect a park for a gentleman who makes but two thousand a year.”

“It is still a bit mean,” Darcy contended.

Bella took in the estate again.  She supposed it was on the small size, but she had had to adjust her expectations since she had left Kenbridge.  She now did not even live on an estate at all. 

“You should see Kenbridge,” Bella suggested, though she did not see how it would be accomplished.  “There are ruins of a castle on the estate that date back to the thirteen hundreds.  I used to play there when I was a child.”

“Indeed?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested.  “Then we must press Sir Lewis for an invitation, if you should like that.”

They were now approaching Longbourn proper and a servant was coming up to take their horses.  Darcy swung off first and then came around to help Bella down.  She accepted graciously, not bothering to fuss or say that she could get off without assistance.  Bella was always accommodating and she knew it was better to get used to Darcy’s presence now than leave it to later.  The sooner she could abide his touch, the sooner she would be contented in her future.

They were shown into the house and Bella carefully took it in, not looking around obviously.

Jane, Elizabeth, and Catherine were in the parlor.  Mrs. Bennet was fluttering about but at a look from Elizabeth went to see about the tea.  Bella took a seat by the window, Darcy standing behind her, looking out over the small wilderness to the side of the property.

“I am so pleased you have come to visit,” Jane opened with.  “You remember my sisters, Elizabeth and Catherine.”  She indicated each of them in turn. 

Bella nodded to them.

Catherine was certainly the freshest, but Jane was the prettiest.  Elizabeth seemed the most pleased with herself.  She—that is, Elizabeth—could not seem to take her eyes from Darcy, going so far as to ignore Bella outright. 

When the tea arrived, Mrs. Bennet was nowhere to be seen.

“How are you enjoying Meryton?” Jane inquired, handing Bella a dish, which she passed to Darcy, although in terms of propriety, she should have kept it for herself.

“I am enjoying it quite well,” Bella answered.  “There has been much amusement with the assembly and the gathering at Lucas Lodge—and now a card party in a little over a week.”

“Yes,” Jane agreed.  “Mrs. Philips is our uncle’s wife.”

Darcy glanced over his shoulder at this, but said nothing.

Bella supposed because they were both aware that Mr. Philips was a solicitor and therefore barely above being in trade.  He had a profession, true, but he was a country solicitor.  He did not have a practice in London, which would have rendered him respectable.

“Then you will be there,” Bella returned.

“Decidedly,” Jane agreed.

Bella took a sip of her tea.  It was a little too weak.

She came away, no more acquainted with the Bennet sisters than she was before she went.

When Darcy came over to lift her into the saddle, she hesitated.  It was not only because she didn’t want him to touch her—she didn’t—but because Elizabeth’s behavior disquieted her.

“Did you notice—?” she asked, leaving the question.

“Miss Elizabeth?” he finished for her, “yes.”

“Has she stared at you like that before?  It is only, she was so open in her regard.”

He grasped her about the waist and lifted her into the saddle.  Walking over to his own horse, Bella thought at first that he wouldn’t answer her, especially when they took off at a walk back in the direction of Meryton. 

They were silent for several minutes before Darcy answered, “Many women are desirous of Pemberley.  Miss Elizabeth is not alone in her regard.  I noticed it at Lucas Lodge.”

“Did you?” Bella asked, thinking to herself.  “I do not recall.”

“That is because you are feminine modesty itself,” he complimented, looking over at her.  “I am quite used it.  That reaction from women will hopefully fade and altogether cease once we are married and Pemberley is beyond their grasp.”

Bella considered this and supposed this was true.  She wondered if there was some way of transferring Darcy’s affections from her to Elizabeth Bennet—as she had thought before—but Elizabeth was from an inferior estate and not the daughter of a baronet.  She also did not have a dowry as far as Elizabeth could tell.  The estate could not support five independent dowries, after all, unless it was very carefully managed.

They also looked nothing like.  If Darcy preferred dark women, a light beauty with a mischievous glimmer in her eye would not be appealing.

Darcy looked over at her.  “You are thinking, Isabella.”

“It is just,” she admitted, “I had not overly considered Pemberley.  I am certain it is well appointed—”

“I would not admire you as much if you were so attached to material considerations.”

She glanced over at him.  “I, of course, want a comfortable home.”

“Naturally.—and I have every intention of providing one for you.  I also have a home in London, in case you were in doubt.”

Bella had assumed as much, but had not inquired.  “Does it have a suitable address?”

“Most suitable,” he promised.  “You shall not be disappointed.”

She nodded.  It was as she thought.  The only objection to the match was Darcy’s person, and that could not be gotten round.

When they arrived back in Meryton, the day was fine and the sun high.  Darcy helped her from the saddle and kissed her hand, delivering her home.  He promised her that she would soon receive an invitation from Netherfield from the ladies of the house, and left her.

Renee was still sequestered with Sir James.

Bella went to check on the pie.

It was cooling on the table.

Charlotte had started on dinner. 

All was well in hand.

When Charlotte went to announce dinner, Renee finally came out with Sir James Urquhart. 

He was tall, broad shouldered, blond, but with a decidedly crooked nose from a duel in his youth.  He was not a handsome man. 

Bella sat dutifully at the dinner table and listened as Renee flirted shamelessly, serving her famous pie when it was time.  She was able to save a large slice for Darcy and had Charlotte set it aside.

When Sir James finally left for the Meryton Arms, Bella turned to Renee.

“Did he propose?”

“He did,” Renee answer.

Bella waited for more.

“I have not given my answer.”

Sighing, Bella sat down in a dining room chair and looked at her mother.  “I thought Sir James is exactly what you wanted.  He’s respectable, wealthy, he has a comfortable home—”

“He does not make the blood stir—” Renee complained, pulling out her own chair and taking a sip of her after dinner coffee.

Bella stared at her.  “I did not know that attraction was part of the marriage equation.  If it were, you would allow me to pass over Darcy.”

Renee’s blue eyes pinned Bella to where she sat.  “Darcy is a perfectly respectable match.  His only fault is that he does not have a baronetcy.”

Forcing herself not to roll her eyes, Bella instead looked down at her hands and studied her nails.  “Sir James has a knighthood—”

“That he does,” Renee agreed.  “However, I married Charlie for position the first time around.  I gave him a child—”  (Bella opened her mouth to object.  It had long been in contention that Renee had never given Charlie a son for the title and the estate, but Renee cut her off) “—and I shall marry to please myself this time around.  You do not have that option.  You are a young lady of standing.”

Bella snapped her mouth shut.

“If you become a widow, you can make a foolish match the second time,” Renee now told her. 

“I do not like—”

“Like?” Renee parried back.  “I do not care if you like Darcy.  You will bear Darcy as women for generations before have born their husbands, and you will do it without complaint.”  Renee pierced her with a look, her blue eyes flashing.  Then, just as suddenly, she deflated.  “You exhaust me, child.  I put up with Sir James’s whining all day and then dined with him.  I must needs go to bed.”

Bella just stared at him.  “If you do not like him, why did you not tell him you had a migraine?”

“Because,” Renee told her, “I am a lady.”  She pushed herself up to her feet.  Standing tall, she really was a beautiful woman.  It was no wonder that men fell all over her.  If she played her cards right and managed to go to London during the season, she could capture a baronet or a lord, Bella was sure of it.  The problem was, they didn’t have the income.  Bella’s fortune was all tied up in bonds and she could not sell without a husband or a father’s consent, and she had neither.

Renee looked over Bella.  “I hope Mr. Darcy was not displeased with you today.”

“No,” Bella whispered.  “He is never displeased with me.”

“I fully expect a marriage proposal before December,” Renee reminded her.

Bella held in a sigh.  “I know.”  It was October now.  She had a month and a half until her fate was sealed and her freedom was as good as gone.

Renee reached over and lightly touched Bella on the shoulder, which was the extent of her maternal affection.  “You will see I am right once you are married and settled.”

Bella highly doubted that.

Retiring, Renee left Bella alone in the dining room with a candle.  Bella could hear her go up the stairs.

Bella just sat in the dimness and thought.  She didn’t suppose she could get Bingley interested in her by Advent.  She thought Bingley merely congenial and a bit of a puppy, but surely that was better than Darcy making her skin crawl.  She doubted Bingley would ever betray his close friendship with Darcy by going after his chosen bride.

That was never going to work.

All the other eligible young men in the area were in thrall with Renee.

Edward—Edward.  She sighed.  He was just a young man in Norfolk with no family name, no fortune, and no backbone who sent her little notes and could never be convinced to elope with her to Gretna Green in time.  And even if she could convince him, what would they live on?  Would they even be happy?  A few moments in a meadow were not enough to base a future on.  He was barely seventeen himself, not even a man.  He surely could not support a wife or any children that would come.

No, Edward had never been an option.

Her mind turned to Carlisle Cullen and her heart fluttered.  At the very touch of his hand, cold as it was, her breath caught.  His golden gaze held hers enthralled.  She knew he felt the same way about her.  She knew it in her bones.  However, he would never break propriety.  He would not even admit to himself that anything lay between them.  He would also not risk his reputation or his practice for a girl who was as good as promised to another.

Still, she could dream of Carlisle—and dream she would.