Mr. Darcy's Daughter (26 page)

"Perhaps
you need a holiday, my dear. Would you like me to write to Aunt Emma and ask if
you may spend a month with them in Kent? I am sure they would love to have you,
and the countryside around Standish Park is at its very best at this time of
year. I wish I could have had some time to spare; I'd go with you," said
her mother.

Alarmed
at the prospect of being sent away to Kent, while the object of her interest
remained in Derbyshire, much as she loved her Aunt Emma, Lizzie leapt up from
her chair and declared that she was perfectly well and did not need a holiday.

"I
do not need to go away, Mama; I am not unwell. I think I need some fresh air
and exercise; I shall walk down to the village and get some ribbon for Laura's
bonnet. I have been putting off doing it, and she will soon begin to doubt that
I mean to do it at all," she said and ran upstairs to get her bonnet and
cape.

Her
mother, who was about to leave for Pemberley with her younger daughter, smiled
and said nothing, but decided she would write to Emma Wilson anyway. Lizzie did
look as if she needed a change, she thought, she had worked very hard in the
past fortnight and was probably tired. She was certain Emma Wilson would be
happy to have her to stay.

Waiting
until the carriage taking her mother and sister had turned out of the drive,
Lizzie put on her bonnet and left the house, walking briskly down the road to
the village, choosing it rather than the path through the woods, in the hope
she might meet someone who might be coming up towards the house. If that person
turned out to be Mr. Carr, it would seem like a happy coincidence, she thought.

Sadly,
she met no one of any significance, for the road was deserted, save for a
couple of farm labourers and a neighbouring family taking their chickens to
market. The children waved to her cheerfully and Lizzie, despite her own rather
melancholy mood, waved back.

Once
in the village, she spent only a little time at the haberdashery shop, buying
the ribbon for Laura's bonnet, before going into one of her favourite haunts, Mrs.
Hardy's bookstore. Mrs. Hardy's daughter Harriet had been at church on Sunday
and, after the service was over, she had stopped to mention that they had
recently received copies of a new novel by Mrs. Gaskell, entitled
Sylvia's
Lovers
. Harriet said she expected it would be very popular among the ladies
of the district.

At
first, Lizzie had not thought she would be sufficiently interested to want to
purchase it, but once in the village, she looked for an excuse to linger a
while and the bookshop provided the best possible reason.

She
went in and Harriet was helping another customer, while Mrs. Hardy was nowhere
to be seen. While she waited for Harriet to be free, Lizzie browsed among the
shelves, idly reading the titles and picking up a copy of the new book.

The
door of the shop opened and someone entered. Though she could not see the
person, by the sound of boots on the floor and the swish of a cape, she knew it
was a man. Lizzie did not turn around at once, even though some instinct told
her he was known to her. Believing it to be Mr. Carr, she thought, Well, he can
surely see me here; if he does not wish to speak with me, I shall not put
myself forward to notice him.

At
that very moment, Harriet, freed from her duties, addressed her by name and
asked if she would like some help. Before Lizzie could answer, the man, who had
been standing a few feet away with his back to her, turned abruptly and said,
"Miss Gardiner, I see you are as interested in reading books as I am in
publishing them."

Startled,
since his was the very last voice she had expected or wanted to hear, Lizzie
literally jumped. "Mr. Jones, I had no idea you were still in the
area..." she muttered, trying to say something sensible, without wishing
to give him any excuse to believe that she was willing to engage in a
conversation. But Jones was not to be easily dissuaded, and having waited for
her to make her purchase, without buying anything himself, he followed her out
of the shop into the street.

Shaken,
Lizzie was at a loss for words. She remembered all the advice her Aunt Emma had
given her, and her mind was racing to find a plausible excuse that would let
her get away from him without giving offence, for she feared what he might do
or say, should she anger him. It soon became abundantly clear to her, from his
persistence, that he was determined to walk with her and there was very little
she could do to be rid of him, as he strode down the street beside her as
though they were friends.

He
kept asking her questions, which she answered mechanically, briefly, giving
little thought to their substance. When she fell silent for a few minutes, he
tried again, asking if he may see what book she had purchased at the bookshop.
Once again, Lizzie would have liked to have refused, telling him it was none of
his business, but instead, she felt intimidated and meekly handed him the
parcel, which he untied and, taking out the book, declared in a loud, jocular
voice, "
Sylvia's Lovers
, eh? There's an interesting choice! Now I
know that you are not as innocent as you pretend to be, Miss Gardiner.

"When
I met you with Josie, I used to think you a regular little blue-stocking, but I
know different now. But do not worry, your secret is safe with me; I shall not
tell on you. I find it very interesting indeed, you should be reading Mrs.
Gaskell... it is not exactly the type of novel..." and he broke off,
because as they reached a street corner, Lizzie had retrieved her book and,
leaving him standing, raced across the road, almost running into the path of a
vehicle and through a crowd of children, into the saddlery, where a moment ago,
she had caught sight of Mr. Carr passing through the doorway.

As
she had sought desperately for a means of escape from the unwelcome company of Mr.
Jones, Mr. Carr's tall figure and familiar hat had attracted her eye and,
without a second thought, she had decided to approach him.

As
she rushed in, breathless, her bonnet pushed back by the breeze as she ran, her
face flushed with the exertion, Mr. Carr turned around and, seeing her thus,
spoke with more concern than politeness. "Miss Gardiner! What on earth is
the matter, are you not well?" and as he spoke, he signalled to the
saddler's apprentice to fetch a chair for the young lady.

Lizzie
could not speak at first, and when she tried, her words were quite
unintelligible. To avoid other customers intruding upon her, the saddler's
wife, a kind woman, presuming she was unwell, asked if the young lady would
like to sit in the back room a while and Lizzie, though protesting she was not
ill, gratefully accepted her invitation.

Once
there, she sat down and was given a cup of hot, sweet tea. It helped alleviate
the shock she had suffered and she blurted out her fears to Mr. Carr,
recounting the incident with Mr. Jones and her acute distress at being accosted
by him on this as well as a previous occasion.

As
he listened, looking concerned and surprised, she said, "I know I should
probably have pretended that I was unaffected, but I could not; each time he
spoke, I was reminded most forcefully of the way he and his friend Mr. Barrett
had shamefully deceived my dear Uncle Julian and dishonoured poor Aunt Josie. I
could not bear it; clearly he thought he could just address me in the shop or
saunter up to me in the street and engage me in casual conversation." Her
voice was shaking as she continued, "It was as though he thought I felt no
outrage at all at the way they had behaved and would be prepared to encourage
his advances."

Lizzie's
voice broke and soon she was in tears.

Mr.
Carr, having proffered a large handkerchief, stepped away for a few moments to
let her alone until she had ceased weeping. When, at last, she dried her eyes
and blew her nose, he said, gently, "Miss Gardiner, you must let me take
you home now; my carriage is at hand, just in the laneway behind the saddlery.

We
can leave by the back door and no one in the street will see you."

She
told him then that she had seen him enter the saddlery and rushed across the
road in the hope that he would help her get away from Mr. Jones. "It was
plain to me, he intended to walk with me all the way home if possible. I could
not have borne that. What would Mama have thought, or my grandparents, whose
son's life he has helped ruin?"

Mr.
Carr agreed that such a situation would have been quite intolerable and she had
done well to get away from Jones. He then thanked the saddler and his wife,
paid them, and promised to return to collect his saddle, before taking Lizzie
out into the laneway, where his vehicle waited. Having helped her in and tucked
a rug around her knees, he drove off, taking the back roads until he was clear
of the village, swinging across the common and back onto the Matlock Road.

It
was a longer and rougher route, he said, apologising for the discomfort it
might cause her, but at least they were unlikely to meet Mr. Jones.

Lizzie
smiled, for the first time since she had heard Mr. Jones's voice in the shop,
and said that the bumps in the road were far preferable to the prospect of
meeting Mr. Jones again.

Mr.
Carr encouraged her to smile by assuring her that she was quite safe from such
an eventuality. "You need have no fears about this man Jones. I will
personally inform him that his approaches to you are not welcome; indeed, I
will take your brother Darcy with me to reinforce the message and make certain
that he understands that he is to leave you alone. You must have the freedom to
walk around the district that is your home, the village you have known since
childhood, without fear of being accosted by some stranger you do not wish to
meet. I give you my word, Miss Gardiner, that I will see he does not trouble
you again."

Lizzie's
relief was so great, she could not hold back the tears that welled up in her
eyes; he stopped the vehicle and provided yet another clean handkerchief,
waiting a while until she was calm before driving on.

Despite
her tears, Lizzie was not unduly embarrassed, for he had been solicitous and
sensible of her feelings and, it seemed to her, he was kindness and
consideration itself. When at last they reached the house, he helped her out,
took her indoors, and stayed with her until he could be assured that she was
quite composed.

Before
he left her, she thanked him and gave him her hand, which he held for a while
in both of his before lifting it to his lips.

"Now
remember, Lizzie," he said, "you have no need to fear, but if you are
at all concerned, do not go alone into the village for the next week or so,
until we are certain Mr. Jones has left the district."

And
with that he went, leaving her smiling, despite her fears, for she was
conscious of the fact that he had spoken her name and called her Lizzie for the
first time in their acquaintance. Going upstairs to her room, she closed the
door and lay on her bed. She felt exhausted, drained of energy, yet
surprisingly elated.

The
sense of helplessness she had suffered in the company of Jones had frightened
her, but the joyous relief she had felt, finding Mr. Carr in the shop, had been
such a wonderful feeling as she had never known before. Her emotions had swung
so swiftly from one extreme to the other, she had felt breathless for some
minutes, unable to explain why she was in such a state. Yet, he had been so
patient and kind. Lying in bed, Lizzie relived the experience and thought
deeply about her feelings. Was it possible, she wondered, that these new
sensations were the beginnings of love? Or could they be merely some temporary
excitement? She wished she could tell the difference.

With
no one in whom she could confide, Lizzie was reluctant to admit, even to
herself, that she was in love with Michael Carr. Between them, there had been
none of the covert flirtation she had witnessed between other lovers.

Mr.
Carr was clearly not the type of man who would indulge in such a jejune pastime
and, while Lizzie saw no harm in the gentle teasing in which she sometimes
indulged, she despised the blatant coquetry of women like Hetty Wallace-Groom.

The
thought of Hetty and Mr. Barrett brought to mind her Aunt Josie and she blushed,
recalling that Mr. Carr knew all about the grief and shame associated with her
aunt's recent conduct. She could only hope that he would not associate her with
anything similar. She thrust the thought aside. It would be unthinkable.

The
longer Lizzie considered it, the more certain she became that hers was a
genuine affection. The realisation of her feelings for Mr. Carr had taken her
by surprise at first, but as she contemplated them, she felt increasingly more
comfortable with them. As for his feelings towards her, his conduct had always
been exemplary--courteous, concerned and, more recently, tending towards
fondness. Today, she had detected a degree of tenderness, to which she, being
vulnerable, had responded without reserve. She had felt safe with him, trusted
him, and was coming gradually to believe she loved him.

Even
as she relived the day, with its terror and joy, Lizzie could feel the
deepening warmth of their association. She was being drawn into something new,
she was not entirely certain what, but it was more pleasurable than anything
she had known before. She felt no apprehension, but wished desperately that she
had someone to confide in. If only, she thought again and again, if only she
had someone she could talk to, someone who knew what love felt like!