Rebellion at Longbourn

“Yes, of course. Quite a generous offer. I thank you.” There was a long silence. “Although nothing of that sort comes immediately to mind.”

He shifted his weight awkwardly as if unsure whether to stay or go. “Well, I am…available…I await your pleasure.”

His agitation was contagious. Elizabeth did not know how to respond. Finally, she asked, “How long will you be visiting Hertfordshire?”

Again, the shrubbery seemed to absorb his attention. “I have some business here. My plans are not fixed.”

This mysterious “business” again! What could it be? “Very good. I will inform you at once if you might provide any assistance.”

He nodded but did not respond. Elizabeth was at a loss. What am I to do with this man?

Chapter Fourteen

I am making a muddle of this, Darcy thought miserably. Her acceptance of his apology had buoyed his spirits, but then…everything had gone askew. He was a fool to think she could possibly need—or want—his assistance. Although he was offering help to Elizabeth, he nonetheless felt like a beggar, hoping she would throw a crust of bread his way. Surely she saw through his claims about “business” and guessed his true purpose. Was that the source of her unease?

Of course, he had no plan to offer her his attentions. But he had hoped she would be happier to see him.

Perhaps I should simply depart. I might reach London by nightfall.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Would you like to stay for tea? Longbourn has a new steward whom you have yet to meet.”

Throughout the long trek from Pemberley, Darcy had longed to speak with Elizabeth alone. But now that they were together, everything seemed stilted and unnatural. Perhaps he might fare better in the presence of others.

“It would be my pleasure,” he responded.

Without another word, Elizabeth led the way into Longbourn Manor. The front hallway was far dimmer than the brightly lit outdoors, but it provided a welcome coolness after the growing heat of the day.

“We finished our luncheon recently,” she explained as she strode toward the door that he knew led to the drawing room. “I would expect the family will still be assembled.”

Indeed, Darcy discovered that the drawing room was populated by Mr. and Mrs. Collins, Mrs. Bennet, her daughters, and a man whom it took Darcy a moment to recognize. However, when recognition hit him, he froze in place.

Everyone stood as Darcy gave them a brief bow. “Darcy,” Patrick Weston drawled with a lazy smile.

“Weston.” Darcy strove to keep his expression and tone neutral. What was this man doing here? Weston’s grin broadened; he enjoyed being the source of Darcy’s confusion.

As everyone settled back into their seats, Darcy took a chair on the opposite side of the room from Weston. “Are you already acquainted with Mr. Weston?” Collins asked, oblivious to the tension between them. “Oh, forgive me! You must have met during your many visits to Rosings.”

Darcy regarded Weston directly. “I believed you had gone into the army.” The man had the most unsavory reputation for drinking, gambling, and whoring his way across the county. Darcy had often begged his aunt to curb the wild behavior of her steward’s son, but she had been very fond of the man’s father and would brook no complaints about the boy. Finally, after one particularly unsavory incident, Aunt Catherine had encouraged him to go into the regulars—to the betterment of Kent. How had Weston arrived at Longbourn?

Weston inclined his head. “I was invalided out. An injury from the peninsula.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Darcy said, wondering if there was any truth to the claim.

“Lady Catherine is a most attentive friend,” Collins added swiftly. “She believed Longbourn to be in need of a steward to help manage its affairs—and sent Mr. Weston for that purpose.”

Hell and damnation! Weston was the new steward? The room was suddenly ten degrees colder.

“I see.” Darcy wished the rules of polite society would allow him to express the disgust and horror he experienced at this information.

“Mr. Weston took up the post just a week ago. The steward’s house was not yet ready for habitation,” Collins volunteered, “so he inhabits Longbourn’s guest room until it is ready.”

Darcy clutched the arm of his chair. Weston was living in the house with four unmarried women? Weston was living with Elizabeth? He wanted to leap from his chair and shout at Collins. The man had obviously lost his mind.

His face must have betrayed some of his alarm. Elizabeth’s expression was a mixture of amusement and sympathy when she gazed at him. Did she know of Weston’s reputation? He needed to warn her, but he could hardly blurt out words of warning in the middle of the drawing room.

Darcy bided his time throughout the tea, adding little to Collins’s conversation about Lady Catherine’s marigolds and the splendor of her grandfather clock. Even Weston spared little effort to feign interest. Fortunately, the two men soon departed to conduct estate business. The minute they had exited, the subject shifted to neighborhood gossip.

Only Elizabeth did not participate; she observed the conversation with a detached smile for a few minutes before standing and making her way to the door. I must speak with her. He stood and hurried to the door, murmuring, “Miss Elizabeth, I am longing to stretch my legs. Might you be prevailed upon to give me the tour you mentioned before?”