Page 3 of Bella Darcy is on the Run

Mina began to cry. "Please do not fight. I cannot bear it."

"William," her mother said firmly, reaching for his hand. "This is not a useful way to resolve anything."

Her father stopped pacing, though his jaw remained tight. "I am trying to make her understand."

"And shouting at her over breakfast is an unlikely way to achieve it."

Bella pushed back her chair. The scrape of wood against the floor seemed horribly loud in the suddenly quiet room.

"I understand perfectly well," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "You think I am idle and ungrateful and that I shall ruin Pemberley the moment it falls into my hands."

"I did not say that, Bella."

Mina gave a small sob beside them, and Kate reached across the table for her hand.

"Bella," her mother said, more gently now. "Sit down. Let us all calm ourselves."

But Bella could not bear to remain there for a single second. The thought of letting down her papa, a man so kind and responsible that he went out of his way not only to support the tenants and staff of Pemberley but to offer assistance to those less fortunate on neighbouring estates and in the village, was too much to bear. Perhaps she was a monster for chafing against her responsibilities. Her head ached, her throat felt tight and the absurd coils Marie had pinned so carefully into place seemed heavier with every passing second.

"I am not hungry," she muttered, and before anyone could stop her, she turned and hurried from the breakfast room, pulling the door closed so hard behind her that it rattled in its frame. She fled up the stairs and to her room, throwing herself onto her bed and letting sobs overtake her.

Chapter Three

Bella's tears came hot and hard, but they did not last long. She was not one of those ladies prone to vapours and weeping. She stood and washed her face and then, methodically, pin by pin, released her elaborate coiffure until her hair fell freely down her back. She could do little about the voluminous curls that framed her face. Had Marie set them in iron? She used her fingertips to massage some blood back into her scalp, loosened the belt fastened tightly about her waist and undid the few buttons she could reach at her neck. Having secured something resembling comfort, she kicked off her shoes and curled up in the window seat, her mind full. She looked across the vast grounds of her home and tried to sort through the jumble of her thoughts. If she could just have a little time and space to breathe, it would make things so much easier.

Her door opened unannounced and Kate walked in. She did not say anything but plopped down on Bella's bed, her chin resting on her hands. She looked at her sister for several long moments.

"What was all of that at breakfast, Bell? I thought Papa would burst a blood vessel. He retired to his study after you escaped upstairs, and even Mama has not been able to coax him out. Mina cried for a full fifteen minutes without stopping. She sounded like that barn cat that got its tail chopped off by Mr Dunn’s scythe." She shook her head sadly. Kate loved all animals. "Mama told her she would only make herself sick and should go for a walk around the gardens to compose herself."

"A walk is Mama's answer to every problem. I dare say she would send me out for a walk if I complained of a broken leg."

"But you love to walk," said Kate, cocking her head curiously.

"Yes, I know that," Bella said, letting out a little huff of frustration. "I only meant... never mind."

Kate’s dark hair was touched with auburn like their mother's, but she was a Darcy through and through. She had their father's solemn brown eyes and long lashes and skin that always looked as though it had been touched by the sun. She also saw the world as a thing to be catalogued and organised.

Bella knew her sister was trying to be kind, but Kate saw the world as a place of natural order, where one thing followed another because that was simply how it was meant to be. To her, Bella becoming mistress of Pemberley was as inevitable as a caterpillar becoming a butterfly. The comparison made Bella shiver. She still remembered the tank of wriggling creatures Kate had insisted they keep in the nursery when they were children. Some nights, her sister would wake and move the tank onto the little table between their beds so that she could be closer to them. Bella had opened her eyes on more than one occasion to find the small green monsters staring back at her.

"You do not need to worry, Katie Kat," she said, reverting to her sister's childhood nickname. "Papa just wants Pemberley to be secure, and I just want... I don't know what I want. I suppose that's the crux of it, really. I don't feel ready to be mistress of all..." She waved her arms around in explanation. "This. I want to see more of the world. I want to experience more than Grosvenor Square and Lambton."

"But this is your home and your family," said Katie, kicking her legs back and forth. "It is like a caterpillar will always become a butterfly, so you will become mistress of Pemberley. It is natural. I could not become a... I don't know, a lion or a mountain, just because I wished it."

"I knew you would bring caterpillars into it," muttered Bella, but there was no heat in her words.

At that moment, Mina came running into the room. "Arabella Jane Darcy," she said in a fine approximation of their ancient and terrifying great-aunt, Lady Catherine. "Whatever are you about? I believe you have made Papa very sad, and you look sad, and I hate it when everyone is cross. It creates an unpleasant atmosphere, and you know I cannot create my art in such circumstances."

Bella let out a short, humourless laugh. In Mina's mind, it truly was her world, and they were all just living in it.

"I know, Min," she said, not wanting to provoke another weeping fit from her sensitive younger sister.

"And you have taken your spectacular hair down. Now I will not be able to record it for posterity."

"I truly felt my head was going to explode," Bella said with a sigh.

Mina giggled and jumped onto the bed beside Kate. "Marie is going to be most vexed with you as well. Do you think she might recreate it again tomorrow? Then I could work up a charcoal sketch that I could use for a larger study."

"I fear I have vexed most of the household, and it is not yet ten."