Neddy was…different. Sometimes, he comprehended things even beyond his age, but in other ways he was frustratingly unreachable. His usual temperament was sweet, loving, mischievous, and happy. He was also very strong-willed, and more and more often of late, if anyone stood between him and what he wanted, he was uncontrollable. There seemed nothing that could stop him when in one of his rages—certainly not the beatings Mr Philips had administered, the last one of which had led to her removal, with Neddy, to Fox Hollow. The problem was, Neddy never, ever surrendered until the last of his strength was expended.
Except he had, had he not? To Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, who had used allhisconsiderable strength not in violence, but only to subdue Neddy’s ferocity. He had used a firmness devoid of outrage, managing to reach the child in a way that she could not seem to do.
She knew from Mr Harris, Longbourn’s bailiff—who heard everything there was to hear—that the Philipses vastly overspent; nothing was saved for her or Jane or Mary beyond the small inheritance they had from Mrs Bennet’s father. Longbourn ought to belong to Neddy himself—but oh, how could they protect it, when they could not even protect him when beneath its roof? If only her uncle Gardiner had not gone to America after his wife died in childbirth with their first child! They had not heard from him in three years, not since shortly before her father died, and they feared the worst. As a fellow trustee, he could have stopped Mr and Mrs Philips, not to mention keeping Mama from being so easily persuaded by them. Heavens, Mr Philips would never have eventriedhisdevilry, had Uncle Gardiner been looking after Neddy’s fortune!
Determinedly, she shook off her anxiety. It was possible, if Jane married well, that she and Neddy would be allowed to reside with them. Might even Mr Bingley be Neddy’s saviour? It was too early to judge. It was not safe to assume he might. No, Elizabeth must attend the upcoming assembly and see for herself whether there were any possibilities. A-husband-hunting, she would go.I will be as coldblooded as Begonia Philips when it comes to this, she swore to herself.
Darcy returned to his horse, pocketed the brown bottle and muslin strips, and walked Gallant to Longbourn, as per the enigmatic woman’s instruction. She had spoken confidently of bringing his horse there, as if it had been her right to do so. Not that he wanted to meet, even by happenstance, Mr Henry Philips, Longbourn’s master.
The man was one of the worst of those climbing-ivy sorts of fellows, over-dressed, over-perfumed, overbearing. How was his mystery woman related? In all of Bingley’s ramblings regarding the inhabitants of Longbourn, he had only mentioned one other Bennet sister, a younger one—Miss Mary, was it? However, a married sister living elsewhere might not have come up in conversation.
He was also certain the lady in green had not been at the one assembly he had been persuaded to attend, even though he had been in such an ugly mood, he had allowed very few introductions.
The weave of her cloak was a fine one, but he had not missed its shabby state; nor was the home in which she livedlarge. It appeared to be a typical hunting box, neither grand nor spacious—although of course he had not examined its furnishings.
At a party held at Sir William Lucas’s abode, he had been introduced to Mr and Mrs Philips; the husband—a balding, stick-thin man with a paunch at his middle and long tufts of hair stuck haphazardly to his scalp—he had immediately despised as an ingratiating parasite. The wife had giggled loudly with Mrs Bennet the entire evening, and he somehow could not imagine either woman as a maternal sort who would put themselves out to care for an overactive toddler. Was that why his lady in green had the child?
Or had she out-and-out lied about the boy’s parentage? Perhaps, even the child belonged to herself and Philips? He shuddered at the very idea, admonishing himself for the wildness of the notion. His imagination was running riot. But why should she be caring for a brother? Who was her husband?
It was a mystery, and he hated mysteries. It was only that, a mere curiosity, a distraction from his worries and a diverting puzzle. He determined he would find answers to his questions, to pierce the enigma of a boy who spoke mostly in babbles and his lovely sister. After all, he had not anything better to do.
Five
THE REMEDY FOR WHAT AILS HIM
“Charles, you cannot wish to attend another such dull event as you dragged us to last month. Mr Darcy, do not you agree? From the paucity of talent in the musicians, to the size of the assembly rooms, so small and overcrowded, it was simply awful! We could not possibly expect any improvement to our satisfaction. Do please tell my brother your true feelings on the matter. As our guest, we must certainly heed your preferences.”
Bingley opened his mouth, Darcy was certain, in protest of both Miss Bingley’s complaints and Darcy’s potential objections. Darcy spoke first. “On the contrary, I am certain the neighbourhood would be deeply disappointed if its newest residents failed to appear. They must certainly look forward to the occasion of gazing upon their betters.”
Miss Bingley did not notice the sarcasm, only pursed her lips as she considered. If there was one object in Miss Bingley’s life, it was to be admired by all who knew her—whether or notshewished to knowthem. Bingley, too pleased byDarcy’s refusal to join in Miss Bingley’s complaints to pay close attention, missed it as well. “I am certain, Darcy, you will not be disappointed. It is a capital neighbourhood, simply capital. Fairest females in the land, I say. You could not have chosen better.”
“And yet you have chosen to exult over only one amongst them,” Darcy replied, wishing to convey mild disapproval regarding his friend’s obsession with Miss Jane Bennet. At the same time, he wanted to encourage the subject, hoping that someone would offer a new clue to Miss Bennet’s other relations.
It had been a few days since his encounter with the strange woman and her brother, Edward. The stableman at Longbourn had been remarkably uncommunicative regarding the pair—almost defiant, even, when he had tried to press for information regarding them, after bringing Gallant to him.
“I failed to pay the lady for the remedy for my horse,” he had explained, after giving the barest summary of Gallant’s altercation with the nettles and his possession of a remedy. “Who might she be?”
“No one who concerns you,” the man named Mr Hill had grunted discourteously. His touch upon Gallant was disproportionately gentle.
“I certainly mean her no harm,” he pushed back, in tones of offended dignity. “It was a simple enquiry.”
“I gave ye a simple answer.” The man had applied the ointment to the horse as easily as if the stallion were a foal and he, his mother.
Something told him that pressing Hill regarding her would only further put his back up. The older man seemed impervious to the demands of his important visitor.
“Perhaps I will go to the house, to relay my thanks and enquire of Mr Philips my questions.”
Darcy, observing the other man closely, had noted the clenched jaw and furious expression at what he plainly interpreted as a threat. In the end he only shrugged, however. “Ye’ll do as ye will.”
He could not escape the feeling that to do so would somehow, in some way, make things more difficult for either the boy or the woman. His frustration increased along with his curiosity, but it was obvious he would learn nothing from the stableman, and it was not like he could seek her out again to have his questions answered directly. Instead, he left a generously weighted pouch for her with a surprised Mr Hill, and continued to remain attentive to Bingley’s blathering in the hopes of gaining greater intelligence upon the family than mere appraisals of Miss Bennet’s comeliness.
Thus far, he had been disappointed, and yet for some reason, he could not forget or simply let it go. News of the upcoming assembly was the first boost to his ‘investigation’, meagre as it was, for his duty of discouraging the romance had meant discouraging calls upon Longbourn’s inhabitants, even at the risk of impeding his reconnaissance.
“Oh! Miss Bennet is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! I do not know why you made excuses at the Harringtons last night to avoid Mrs Bennet’s invitation to dinner. Miss Bennet has assured me that her mother sets a fine table.”
“Is it not Mrs Philips whose table it is, and who ought to have extended the invitation?” he asked. It had struck him as odd at the time, the way Mrs Bennet acted as lady of the manor and Mrs Philips’s purse-lipped—and half-hearted—endorsement of the invitation. Bingley waved this away.
“Not at all. Mrs Bennet stillisits mistress. Miss Bennetsaid that the Philipses are Mrs Bennet’s relations—they moved in when her father died a few years ago, to assist her in the running of the estate.”
