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But surely there was some way to overcome the male tenants’ bias against women’s ideas. “Perhaps you might enlist the help of your friends; they might speak with their husbands, too.”
Intrigued, Mrs. Greeves lifted her head.
Elizabeth pressed ahead. “You and I can do little on our own, but we can recruit others to our cause. After all, Mr. Collins cannot operate Longbourn alone, can he? If enough people participate, then we might transform the estate.”
“But…will they listen to you or Miss Mary? You’re only women,” Mrs. Greeves said in hushed tones.
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, we are not farmers. Mary has never tried any of the methods in the journals she reads. But if the farmers will just meet with her and listen to her ideas…I think they will be convinced. The first step is persuading the tenants to attend that meeting.”
Mrs. Greeves nodded. “Very well. I don’t want any more children to fall ill. It’s worth a try. What would you like me to do?”
Elizabeth had not known it was possible to simultaneously experience so much relief and anxiety. “I pray you, speak with the other wives and explain this to them. Then talk with your husband and ask the other wives to speak with theirs. You know which tenants can be trusted. They might not be convinced, but if they can just attend a meeting with Mary she can explain everything—and together they can figure out how to make it
work at Longbourn…”
Chapter Four
Darcy stared down at the streets of Meryton from the inn’s window, hoping against hope that he would see Elizabeth’s form—or any inhabitants of Longbourn. He had endeavored to draw the innkeeper’s wife into a conversation about the manor’s residents, but she—unlike every other innkeeper’s wife he had ever met—seemed disinclined to gossip, saying only that the young ladies from Longbourn were rarely in town. That could mean anything.
The setting sun cast long shadows on the street, forcing some people to squint as they hurried through the cool, early spring air. He had intended to arrive earlier in the day so he might call on Longbourn immediately, but his departure from Darcy House had been delayed by, among other things, the necessity of finding an acceptable excuse for his absence to Georgiana and Bingley. Fortunately, the former had been put off by vague assertions about needing to see an acquaintance, and the latter had been distracted by the arrival of his own man of business. Still, Darcy could not remain in Hertfordshire very long; there was too much business requiring attention. He had met with Pemberley’s steward briefly, but they would need to spend far more time pouring over the estate’s books.
I should not be here at all. After an absence of eighteen months, I should be attending to my estate and investments. And yet he must be here; he must see Elizabeth. He could not escape the feeling that he was already dreadfully late in his arrival. The thought made his stomach twist unpleasantly.
He must be honest with himself. He could have inquired about her circumstances earlier, but he had not because he feared the temptation. Given that he had rushed to Hertfordshire after hearing the first news of Elizabeth, perhaps he had been right. But he had not anticipated such a string of calamities—and he certainly had not expected to be personally responsible.
No, he must insist on complete honesty, at least within his own mind. Even without the dire news about her family, he would likely have ventured into Hertfordshire to catch a glimpse of her.
Now her family’s situation rendered her even less desirable as his wife, and yet he knew—even before he saw her—that his fascination with Elizabeth had not abated. I must simply be resolute. I will help her and her family, and then I will leave Hertfordshire immediately, never to see her again. Further entanglement with the Bennet family simply was not possible; he could damage any chances that Georgiana would make an advantageous match.
“Elizabeth.” Resting his face against the glass of the window, he whispered her name. Somehow just uttering those syllables was comforting.
The inn’s small garden, with its little shoots of plants pushing up through the earth, was rapidly being swallowed by the shadows of the impending evening. What did Longbourn’s garden look like now? He had never explored it with Elizabeth, one of many things he regretted. Constantly fighting his passion for her, he had wasted untold hours that he could have spent in her company. In his dreams he had walked with her everywhere, but in reality, they had spent precious little time together.
“Elizabeth,” he murmured into the glass, “why will you not leave me alone?”
His chest burned with a desperate need to see her…a desperate desire to know how she fared. Even now it was all he could do to prevent himself from mounting his horse and riding to Longbourn despite the late hour. Knowing that she was a mere mile or two away was too great a temptation. Somehow he must find the patience to wait until tomorrow.
To distract himself, Darcy rehearsed the vague plan he had formulated on the road for how he might help the Bennet family. But any plan depended on what he would discover upon arrival at Longbourn.
Elizabeth—indeed the whole Bennet family—must be very anxious about Lydia’s well-being. If Timson located her, Darcy would need to help the girl, most likely paying Wickham to marry her. It was distasteful but necessary.
But it was not enough. He longed to improve the situations of Elizabeth and her sisters since his actions—or inactions—had contributed to their current plight. It would be difficult without risking damage to their reputations. He could not bestow money on an unrelated single woman. But perhaps he might give money to one of their relatives, Mr. Phillips or the one who lived in Cheapside, for it to be conveyed to the Bennets.
Collins did not seem the type to beat or abuse women under his care, but Darcy had been mistaken in men’s characters before. If the clergyman was mistreating his female relatives… well, Darcy would put an end to it somehow. Darcy and Collins were closer to being social equals than they had been when last they met, but there was no question that Darcy’s fortune dwarfed Collins’s. He could find any number of ways to intimidate the man; if necessary, he could threaten to tell Lady Catherine.
A knock at the door interrupted his reverie. “Enter.”
The innkeeper’s wife bustled into the room with a tray of simple fare for his dinner. Darcy thanked her as she put bread and a bowl of stew on the table by the window. “I have visited Meryton before and wonder if any of my old acquaintances are about,” he said, striving to keep his voice casual.
The woman concentrated on her task as she set a spoon and napkin on the table. “Well, sir, there’s a dance at the assembly rooms tonight. I would imagine most people of quality would be there.”
Darcy’s heart gave a little flip of either anxiety or excitement. “Ah, excellent. Perhaps I will attend.”
He gave the woman a coin and watched her slip out the door before seating himself at the table. An assembly dance. How…fitting. The first place he had ever glimpsed Elizabeth. He vividly recalled her dress: white with gold thread embroidered in the fabric. He had insulted her egregiously, and yet she appeared amused, her eyes sparkling with laughter. Her unexpected reaction had struck him most forcefully. How could his heart ache so much for a woman he had not seen in nearly two years?
Very well. He would attend the dance, where he might encounter Elizabeth without drawing too much attention to his preference for her. He would dance with her and her sisters, nothing remarkable for an old acquaintance.
Yes. He would see her at the assembly and determine how he could rectify her family’s situation. Then he would leave Elizabeth Bennet’s life once more—this time forever.
