Elizabeth Bennet's Excellent Adventure: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary by Regina Jeffers
Authors: Regina Jeffers
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to Brighton. There be another coach going south tomorrow.
“It is good of the innkeeper to make the offer,” Elizabeth observed.
“The man has a business,” Mrs. Bylane said without emotion. “But I could be long waitin’ fer another to ask of Portsmouth. A coach only goes to the western shires every other day, and the innkeep say it not be full until it reach London.”
Mrs. Bylane touched her finger to the butter upon the bread and slipped the tip of her smallest finger into the babe’s mouth. The infant sucked greedily upon it.
“If there be no takers soon, I must set out fer Brighton on foot.”
“Will not Mr. Bylane come searching for you?” Elizabeth asked in concern. “Could you not wait for your husband’s calling? Surely there must be another means than walking to Brighton.”
The woman looked off wistfully.
“If’n Mr. Bylane thinks I not come he might rejoin the crew. Even if’n he do look fer me, Mr. Bylane will turn his steps toward Staffordshire, to where me family lives. Me husband knows not I’s took employment in Hertfordshire. That be the reason his message arrived too late.”
“I could…” Elizabeth began, but Mrs. Bylane shook off the suggestion before Elizabeth offered.
“I accepted the tea and bread for William’s sake, but I kin take no charity, Miss Bennet. I’s have me pride.”
“Pride is a sour meal,” Elizabeth countered.
She and the woman sat in silence for several minutes, each lost in her musings. At length, Elizabeth removed the scrap of paper the innkeeper presented her earlier from her reticule and slid it across the table to Mrs. Bylane.
“I find I always wished to visit Portsmouth,” she said in a voice calmer than she felt. “Would you do me the great honor, Mrs. Bylane, of trading places with me?”
Elizabeth knew very little of Portsmouth other than its seafaring renown, but surely it offered a variety of entertainments for gentlemen in the navy and their families. The town would not possess the pomp of Brighton’s connection to Prince George, but if she wished an “adventure,” Portsmouth would be one no one would expect.
“Miss Bennet, I did not speak me tale to bring ferth yer sympathies,” Mrs. Bylane protested.
Elizabeth spoke in earnest.
“I experienced a loss of late, and I require some private time before I return to my family. It does not matter whether that private time comes in Brighton or in Portsmouth. Yet, marital felicity does depend upon your being in Brighton. Now, no more arguments. Take William and your daughter to reunite with Mr. Bylane. Claim a bit of happiness.”
* * *
“Darcy, you cannot,” the colonel declared when Darcy attempted to dress.
“I must go to her, Fitzwilliam,” Darcy protested. “Miss Elizabeth must be made to understand I did not desert her.”
The colonel scowled his disapproval.
“You can barely walk without assistance,” his cousin reasoned. “If you persist in this madness, you could suffer dire consequences.”
After the physician tending Darcy’s many wounds departed, Darcy had a long talk with Georgiana. His sister’s assessment of Elizabeth’s disappointment frightened Darcy more than had his assailants. Elizabeth was not the type to succumb to tears. Darcy expected her anger to send Elizabeth into as shrewish rant, but the idea of her displaying an emotional attachment to him had his hopes praying for succor.
Was it possible Elizabeth held feelings for him? It was a question Darcy could not shake.
“Elizabeth must despise me,” he whispered in anguish tones.
The colonel caught Darcy’s arm to turn Darcy’s steps toward the bed.
“I cannot be both guard and spy at the same time,” the colonel insisted. “You must choose as to whether my occupation will be caretaker or will I search out news on Wickham?”
“You know my response,” Darcy grumbled as he eased his weight onto the bed.
The colonel spread the linens across Darcy’s lap.
“I will bring you ink,
“It is good of the innkeeper to make the offer,” Elizabeth observed.
“The man has a business,” Mrs. Bylane said without emotion. “But I could be long waitin’ fer another to ask of Portsmouth. A coach only goes to the western shires every other day, and the innkeep say it not be full until it reach London.”
Mrs. Bylane touched her finger to the butter upon the bread and slipped the tip of her smallest finger into the babe’s mouth. The infant sucked greedily upon it.
“If there be no takers soon, I must set out fer Brighton on foot.”
“Will not Mr. Bylane come searching for you?” Elizabeth asked in concern. “Could you not wait for your husband’s calling? Surely there must be another means than walking to Brighton.”
The woman looked off wistfully.
“If’n Mr. Bylane thinks I not come he might rejoin the crew. Even if’n he do look fer me, Mr. Bylane will turn his steps toward Staffordshire, to where me family lives. Me husband knows not I’s took employment in Hertfordshire. That be the reason his message arrived too late.”
“I could…” Elizabeth began, but Mrs. Bylane shook off the suggestion before Elizabeth offered.
“I accepted the tea and bread for William’s sake, but I kin take no charity, Miss Bennet. I’s have me pride.”
“Pride is a sour meal,” Elizabeth countered.
She and the woman sat in silence for several minutes, each lost in her musings. At length, Elizabeth removed the scrap of paper the innkeeper presented her earlier from her reticule and slid it across the table to Mrs. Bylane.
“I find I always wished to visit Portsmouth,” she said in a voice calmer than she felt. “Would you do me the great honor, Mrs. Bylane, of trading places with me?”
Elizabeth knew very little of Portsmouth other than its seafaring renown, but surely it offered a variety of entertainments for gentlemen in the navy and their families. The town would not possess the pomp of Brighton’s connection to Prince George, but if she wished an “adventure,” Portsmouth would be one no one would expect.
“Miss Bennet, I did not speak me tale to bring ferth yer sympathies,” Mrs. Bylane protested.
Elizabeth spoke in earnest.
“I experienced a loss of late, and I require some private time before I return to my family. It does not matter whether that private time comes in Brighton or in Portsmouth. Yet, marital felicity does depend upon your being in Brighton. Now, no more arguments. Take William and your daughter to reunite with Mr. Bylane. Claim a bit of happiness.”
* * *
“Darcy, you cannot,” the colonel declared when Darcy attempted to dress.
“I must go to her, Fitzwilliam,” Darcy protested. “Miss Elizabeth must be made to understand I did not desert her.”
The colonel scowled his disapproval.
“You can barely walk without assistance,” his cousin reasoned. “If you persist in this madness, you could suffer dire consequences.”
After the physician tending Darcy’s many wounds departed, Darcy had a long talk with Georgiana. His sister’s assessment of Elizabeth’s disappointment frightened Darcy more than had his assailants. Elizabeth was not the type to succumb to tears. Darcy expected her anger to send Elizabeth into as shrewish rant, but the idea of her displaying an emotional attachment to him had his hopes praying for succor.
Was it possible Elizabeth held feelings for him? It was a question Darcy could not shake.
“Elizabeth must despise me,” he whispered in anguish tones.
The colonel caught Darcy’s arm to turn Darcy’s steps toward the bed.
“I cannot be both guard and spy at the same time,” the colonel insisted. “You must choose as to whether my occupation will be caretaker or will I search out news on Wickham?”
“You know my response,” Darcy grumbled as he eased his weight onto the bed.
The colonel spread the linens across Darcy’s lap.
“I will bring you ink,
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