Page 4 of Bella Darcy is on the Run

"There is a certain efficiency about that to be admired," said Kate. "Now, why not attend your lesson with Papa? And be sure to attend properly. That will resolve everything nicely."

"I fear it will not," said Bella, turning her head back towards the window.

She heard the soft brush of slippers on the carpet and turned to see her mother standing in the doorway. Elizabeth Darcy was petite in stature, but she had a presence that seemed to fill any space she occupied. Always ready with a witty remark or a kind word, she had a knack for putting people at ease that Bella had come to envy. Bella so often felt awkward in her own skin, uncertain of what to say until the wrong words had already escaped her mouth. Her mother never seemed to suffer from such difficulties. That did not mean she was always welcoming. Elizabeth Darcy had little patience for high-handedness or conceit, and Bella had witnessed more than one pompous lady or gentleman leave her company looking as though they had been violently stripped of several layers of self-importance.

She was still a handsome woman, though the smile lines around her eyes had softened her features. Her hair remained a glorious mass of chestnut shot through with amber, although Bella had once caught her mother's maid applying some mysterious concoction to disguise the few strands of grey beginning to appear. Her mother had sworn her to secrecy, declaring her hair to be her one vanity and laughing that Papa would think her a very silly goose if he discovered the lengths she went to preserve it.

Her mother looked towards her younger daughters. "Off with you now, please, girls. Your French master is looking for you, Mina. Kate, you need to ready yourself for our trip to Lambton if you wish to collect the books you have ordered."

"Yes, Mama," they chimed, scrambling from their positions on the bed. Mina paused in the doorway and gave Bella a meaningful look that plainly said do not cause any more disharmony, before their mother closed the door behind them.

Her mother crossed the room and motioned for Bella to rearrange herself on the window seat so that she might squeeze in beside her. "I am sorry you have had such a difficult morning, my dear. Your papa lost his temper, and he ought not to have shouted at you. I have told him the same."

Bella picked at a loose thread on her skirt. "He thinks I am going to ruin Pemberley. That all his hard work will go to nothing."

"He most assuredly does not."

"He said as much," said Bella, her gaze fixed on her lap. "And he may be right."

"That is not true. Not even in the smallest degree. He said something foolish because he was frightened."

Bella looked at her. "Frightened? Of me?"

"Not of you. For you. Your grandfather died when your papa was very young. He inherited Pemberley before he felt ready for it, and I think he worries that the same thing will happen to you."

Bella felt tears prick behind her eyes. "Is Papa ill? Oh, and I have made him so unhappy. I am sorry, Mama, I am so selfish."

"No," said her mother firmly. "He is as healthy as healthy can be. He just worries for you as he worries for all his girls. William has always been a deep thinker. I have never been able to train him out of it."

Bella gave a faint smile, but it quickly disappeared. "I do not understand why he behaves as though I am refusing Pemberley. I am not. I know it will be mine one day. I know there are people depending upon me. I only..." She stared through the window at the hills beyond the lawn. "I want something before that."

"What sort of something? It is difficult for me to know how to help if I do not know what it is that you seek."

"I don't know." Bella gave a frustrated little laugh. "That is the problem. How am I supposed to know what I want from the world when I have scarcely seen any of it?"

"I suppose I want to go somewhere where nobody knows who I am," Bella continued. "Where no one bows because I am Miss Darcy of Pemberley or wonders how much money I shall inherit or whether I might make a suitable wife for their son. I want to meet people I would never meet here. I want to know whether I am capable of doing anything without Papa arranging it or an army of servants following me around every minute of every day."

Her mother's eyes searched her face. "I suppose I felt a little of that when I first arrived here. Although I think I have told you that it was your father's fine grounds that truly opened my heart to him." She laughed. "But you must remember that when I was your age, I lived on a much less grand estate, and I can assure you that life without the comforts of Pemberley is not some romantic idyll. It is hard work, and a smaller house filled with girls is very, very noisy."

"Mama! It is very noisy here. And you forget, I have been to Longbourn many times to visit with Grandpa and Aunt Mary."

Thomas Bennet had outlived his wife and, at the grand age of eighty-three, seemed determined to annoy his heir, a silly distant cousin named William Collins, by living as long as possible.

"It is hardly as though you grew up in a one-bedroom cottage and had to milk the goat every morning," Bella continued.

"I do believe I milked our goat, Hortensia, precisely once. It was on receipt of a very silly dare from your Aunt Lydia and resulted only in my receiving a sharp kick to the shins and a very unattractive milk stain down the front of my gown. Mrs Hill, the housekeeper, was most displeased."

Bella laughed despite herself.

"I suppose what I am trying to say, very inelegantly, is that different is not always better. And, for better or worse, your circumstances are unusual. You are a young woman with a considerable fortune, and one day you will inherit this estate. That gives you freedoms most women could scarcely imagine, but it also places limitations upon you. And it makes you a target for the worst sort of people."

Bella sighed. "I know, Mama. I must be locked in my tower, lest a fortune hunter comes to steal me away in the middle of the night."

Her mother had a distant look in her eyes and did not respond to the comment. "Perhaps over the summer we shall take the opportunity to see a little more of the world. I think the seaside would be wonderful for you and your sisters or perhaps we could see your Aunt Georgie in Bath. And Aunt Jane and Uncle Charles and the boys could accompany us. Does that not sound very jolly indeed?"

Bella smiled, but it was a weak one. The sort of travel her mother imagined was their life transplanted to another place. The same people and the same conversations, as pleasant as they were, only in different drawing rooms with different views from the windows. A line from Byron’s Childe Harold rose unbidden in her mind. Who would be free themselves must strike the blow? She had always thrilled at the words, so brave and decisive. The rallying cry of heroes. Her parents, as kind and loving as they were, could not give her the freedom she wanted. Perhaps no one could. A thought started to solidify in her mind—her freedom was something she would have to take for herself. Even if just for a little while.

Her mother kissed her temple. "Talk to your papa. Properly this time and truly listen. He loves you beyond reason, Bella. Whatever you imagine this morning has proved, never doubt that. And attend your lesson with him this afternoon."