She gave him a sad smile. “I should be too proud to accept your charity, but I am not. I thank you, Mr. Darcy.” She regarded him a little wistfully. “If only I could see my family again…but I cannot go to Meryton.”
“Perhaps I might arrange a clandestine meeting.”
She clapped her hands. “That would be just the thing!”
“But I would like to make arrangements for your future. If you do not wish to wed, what would you do? I could purchase a cottage for you—where you might start a new life as a widow.”
“I suppose there are enough widows about with the war and all,” Lydia mused, but she did not seem particularly taken with the idea.
“Did you have another idea in mind?”
She regarded him through lowered lashes, resembling a child who planned to request an outrageous Christmas present. “I always thought it would be very exciting to live in America.”
The idea shocked Darcy. Send a woman and a newborn across the ocean to a half-savage country? But, he reminded himself, plenty of families emigrated. He could easily pay for her passage and give her funds to start a new life. And then…well, America was a new country. It rewarded people who were rough in their manners but full of energy. Lydia Bennet might do very well there.
“That might be possible.” Lydia bounced on her bed—the first demonstration of her old ebullience. “But you must wait until after the child is born,” he cautioned.
“Of course.”
“After you are delivered of your child, if you still wish it, I will pay for safe passage and give you funds to start a new life in America.”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, that would be wonderful! Thank you.” She made an abortive move to hug him but instead flopped backward on the bed, cradling her belly. “Do you hear that, baby? We are going to America!”
Darcy could only hope that Lydia’s family would understand his decision.
Chapter Seventeen
Darcy had only been away from Hertfordshire for two days, but it seemed far long
er. As his horse trotted through the gates of Longbourn, Darcy nearly vibrated with excitement. He could picture how Elizabeth’s face would light at the news about Lydia. Although Lydia was not in the best possible circumstances, her family would be pleased to know she was well. Already he was calculating how he might bring his carriage to Hertfordshire for the purpose of transporting the Bennet sisters to visit Lydia in London.
He had taken the girl to her relatives, the Gardiners, in Cheapside, who had welcomed her warmly. Lydia had been unwilling to stay with them for fear of bringing scandal upon the family, so they had helped Darcy arrange an apartment and a reliable housekeeper to care for her until she gave birth. Meanwhile, Darcy’s agent would make arrangements for her voyage to America.
Finally, he could bring some good news to the Bennet family. After months of offering help, he had finally fulfilled his promise. And although his visit to Rosings Park had not borne fruit, Darcy had an idea how he might turn events to benefit the Bennets.
But uppermost in Darcy’s mind was the memory of fine, dark eyes and a kiss so unreserved and passionate he had never desired its end. Could he steal another private moment with her? Would she permit another kiss? Such musings kept him eagerly spurring his mount forward all the way from London.
Darcy was so intent on reaching Longbourn Manor that he nearly missed a group of men clustered by the side of the road, not far past the gate. However, the sight caused him to rein in his horse once he noticed it. Weston was arguing with two farmers while Collins stood nearby, wringing his hands in agitation. Fearing that the tenants and Weston might come to blows, Darcy swung off his horse, tied it up, and strode over to the men. Surely Elizabeth would not be pleased by a brawl between the steward and tenants.
“Mr. Weston,” he said, keeping his tone mild, “is there a problem?”
“I’ll say there is!” the man snarled. “I don’t know what the scoundrel tenants think they are doing! This field is supposed to be planted with wheat, and well, you see it!”
Darcy’s eye followed the direction Weston indicated. The field was neatly planted, and the crops were growing well, without any sign of illness or blight. However, the plants were undoubtedly clover—an integral part of the Norfolk crop rotation system. Clover did not deplete the soil of nutrients as many other crops did and thus was preferable to leaving a field fallow. No doubt it was essential to Elizabeth’s plan to modernize Longbourn.
“Damned waste of a field that should have wheat!” Weston gestured wildly to his employer. “You should evict these tenants from the estate!”
Collins shifted his gaze unhappily from Weston to the farmers. Darcy recognized one of them as Mr. Greeves, a tenant who Elizabeth had mentioned. Collins would not be pleased at the prospect of replacing a man who was a leader among the farmers.
“What did the tenants have to say?” Darcy asked, primarily to give himself time to consider the conundrum. The field was undoubtedly planted with clover when Weston and Collins expected wheat, but Darcy did not want to cause problems for Elizabeth or thwart the scheme she had expended so much labor upon.
The two farmers regarded Darcy warily, no doubt believing he would take Weston’s side in the dispute; landowners tended to stand together. “It’s wheat,” the first man said to Darcy. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, Mr. Darcy. I’m Greeves, and this is Meacham. We were telling Mr. Weston that it is simply a different variety of wheat from what one usually sees.”
Darcy was impressed the tenants could say such a thing with a straight face. Wheat and clover did not resemble each other in the least.
Collins stared at the field, squinting in the bright sunlight. “It does not look like wheat.”
That was certainly true. However, gainsaying the farmers would hand Weston a victory and could have dire consequences for Elizabeth’s entire Longbourn scheme. Greeves might be evicted, Elizabeth’s plans would be uprooted, and Weston’s position would be strengthened at the very moment that Darcy desired his departure.