Ardently Loved

by Lory Lilian

“Oh, Jane, what shall I do without you when you leave? Nobody understands me as well as you do.”

  “Do not despair, my dear; perhaps the rain will allow us to avoid not only the ball but also the wedding, so you can keep Jane near you,” Mr. Bennet uttered.

  Mrs. Bennet cried in despair at such a cruel statement, Elizabeth gently scolded her father for his painful jokes, and Mr. Gardiner removed his facetious brother-in-law from the ladies’ company and into the library.

  Elizabeth was as amused as her father was by the absurd disagreement. However, as she looked outside at the curtain of falling water, she could not help wondering whether her mother might have a valid point: it was not impossible that bad weather might keep guests in London.

  Unlike her mother, though, she was not at all troubled by the idea. The only guest that truly mattered to her was already there, and the three miles’ distance could easily be covered in any weather.

  ***

  Around noon, things settled for a while. Mrs. Gardiner was taking care of the children upstairs; Kitty was listening to Mary, who practised at the piano. Mrs. Bennet was resting in her chamber to calm her tormented nerves under Jane’s supervision.

  Elizabeth joined her father and uncle in the library, all three of them reading in peaceful silence.

  “Lizzy dear, since I have long wished a private moment with you, I cannot miss this opportunity,” Mr. Bennet eventually said. “I must speak to you. And having your uncle here is even better.”

  “What is it, Papa?” Elizabeth asked, putting down her book.

  “In fact, I rather wish to ask whether you have anything to tell me.”

  Elizabeth glanced at her uncle. “About what, Papa?”

  “Well, allow me to put it as briefly as possible. I am rather curious about some changes that obviously have occurred regarding you and a certain gentleman. And I know I should not speak about such a delicate subject in front of your uncle, but we all know I am not a good father. If I were, I would have forced you to marry Mr. Collins as your mother insisted, and we would not be having this conversation now.”

  Elizabeth laughed through her embarrassment. “You are an excellent father—I could not imagine a better one, Papa. However, sometimes you enjoy too well making fun at the expense of others.”

  “I admit I do. But that is not the case now. You must understand my puzzlement and my desire for clarification. Until recently, the Mr. Darcy I knew was arrogant, disdainful, aloof, and haughty. He barely spoke to anyone in the neighbourhood, refused to dance with you, and showed his open disapproval of Bingley’s attachment to Jane. Is that an accurate description of the gentleman, Lizzy?”

  “It could be, Papa. That was how we saw Mr. Darcy when we first met him.”

  “I heartily disagree with such an assessment,” Mr. Gardiner intervened. “I have seen none of these traits in Mr. Darcy, and I have been in his company on several occasions. You were surely wrong.”

  “Mr. Darcy certainly improved on better acquaintance, although his character was probably unchanged,” Elizabeth whispered. “His manners certainly softened, and his behaviour became more amiable.”

  “Yes, and I cannot but wonder about the inducement for such changes,” Mr. Bennet continued. “He must have finally accepted Bingley’s marriage to Jane and become more polite because of him. I do not mind it at all since I truly enjoy his company. He appears to be one of the best-educated men I have met. But he also went from not wanting to dance with Lizzy to asking her for the first set! This has been quite a bumpy journey.”

  Elizabeth said nothing, and Mr. Gardiner poured himself some wine.

  “Well, we should be happy for this journey, bumpy or not. To be honest, Madeline and I are delighted to have Mr. Darcy’s friendship. She is still incredulous that she has been invited to visit Pemberley and that its master calls on us. And I believe he will be an excellent dancing partner for Lizzy,” concluded Mr. Gardiner.

  “Yes, yes…I just hope Lizzy will not entertain any silly, unreasonable hopes. A man like Darcy does not make decisions recklessly or outside his circle of friends or family. I would be sad to see Lizzy disappointed. Therefore, if there is more I should know, I do not want to be left oblivious any longer.”

  “You have no reason for concern, Papa, and there is nothing specific that I have to tell you for now. I know what I should expect or not; I am not a silly girl anymore.”

  “I hope so, my darling, because in truth, your unconditional trust and good opinion of Wickham somewhat shattered my confidence in your wisdom,” Mr. Bennet mocked her.

  She blushed but laughed. “And well deserved, Papa. You could not scold me more than I did myself. I greatly mistook both Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy. My wit and my reason were not at their best last autumn.”

  “Not to mention your poor judgement in refusing Mr. Collins,” Mr. Bennet said in complete earnest, making Elizabeth laugh again.

  “I cannot thank you enough for supporting me in that decision, Papa. Very few fathers would have done the same.”

  “As I said, I have never been the father to decide what is best for his daughters’ future. When I die and Mr. Collins throws you out, you will all have to move to Bingley’s garden unless one of you finds an excellent match to split the burden with the poor man.”

  “Papa, your jokes are just horrible at times,” Elizabeth embraced him, kissing his forehead.

  “Are they? Well, here is another: Can one of you explain to me how it occurred that, of all the places in London, Mr. Darcy happened to attend Wickham’s wedding with Lydia? What could he possibly be doing with the man who seemed more an enemy than a friend and who had just eloped in a most dishonourable manner?”

  Elizabeth took a step back, thinking of a proper reply.

  “Come now, do not take me for an old fool! I know there must be something behind all this. You were all in Derbyshire when you received the news about Lydia. You hurried to Town, brother, but Darcy had no reason to leave home. Yet, he suddenly left his friends and sister and travelled halfway across the country to call on you at Gracechurch Street and befriend you. In the meantime, Wickham’s situation was miraculously solved overnight, and Darcy attended his wedding. As I speak of it, I can see how odd these coincidences were, not to mention how distressing the subject seems to be for the two of you, for Madeline, and for the man himself. Now—which of you will tell the story?”

  Mr. Bennet filled his glass and took a comfortable seat in his armchair, watching them closely. Mr. Gardiner emptied his glass and filled it again.

  “Brother, Mr. Darcy’s presence in London was astonishing to us too. Neither of us expected such a thing. He first called on us after you left town, and he provided us with invaluable help in discovering Lydia. He apparently knew about Wickham’s habits and could more easily discover his whereabouts.”

  “Why would he care about Lydia?”

  “He probably did not. But he told us Wickham was his responsibility and that, if he had exposed him sooner, no young lady from Meryton would have been deceived by him. He said it was his duty to settle things.”

  “Papa, Mr. Darcy told you the same a few days ago—remember?”

  “I do remember, Lizzy.”

  “Apparently, this was not the first time Wickham has done such a thing. But the other young ladies were persuaded not to marry the scoundrel. Since Lydia insisted on having him, Mr. Darcy advised us how we could best resolve the situation.”

  “He advised you, brother? Allow me to ask: Do you happen to know a general or a colonel in the army to whom you could apply for Wickham’s living?” Mr. Bennet asked.

  “I do not.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “Brother Bennet, Mr. Darcy insisted on our secrecy in this matter. He wished his involvement to remain unknown. He repeatedly claimed he did nothing but his
duty, and he refused to discuss the details. I believe we should at least respect his wishes and end this conversation. I feel I betray his confidence. If not for Lydia speaking to Lizzy, I would never approach the subject with any of you,” Mr. Gardiner spoke in all seriousness.

  “Very well, brother. Your point is valid. I only have one more question. I know quite well how large Wickham’s debts were, and I know what was involved in buying him a new commission. You cannot possibly afford to spend such a sum without using all your savings. Such expenses would leave you and your family exposed to poverty. That thought has tormented me for the last few weeks, and I can hardly find rest. I shall struggle to do everything in my power to repay you as soon as possible, and I must know the exact sum you wasted.”

  Mr. Gardiner swallowed more wine, paced the room, and then stopped by the window.

  “I am not exposed to poverty, brother, and there is nothing to repay—nothing at all. I have nothing more to say on the subject. Allow me to return to my book.”

  Mr. Bennet’s astonishment was apparent, and he held his glass absently, staring at his companions. Elizabeth—flushed and distressed—held her father’s incredulous gaze. The three of them watched each other wordlessly, only the sound of the fire breaking the awkward silence.

  “Yes, let us return to our books,” Mr. Bennet eventually uttered as the rain and wind rattled the window. The matter was clarified and closed.

  Behind her book, Elizabeth’s heart smiled as she remembered Darcy’s words. He had done it for her.

  ***

  An hour later, conversation in the library returned to its usual easiness. All three were relieved by sharing the burden of a secret not completely disclosed but well understood.

  A surprise call interrupted them, which proved that where there is a will, there is a way—even through a nasty, cold, autumn rain.

  Mr. Collins appeared at the library door, bowing ceremoniously. He immediately informed them that he and his wife had travelled from Kent with the purpose of attending the ball, a pleasant opportunity to meet again with their friends and relatives in Hertfordshire.

  “Is Charlotte with you?” Elizabeth inquired in happy anticipation of seeing her old friend.

  “No indeed, my dear cousin. She is resting in her parents’ house. You must have heard that we have been blessed in the most fortunate way and we are expecting an heir in the spring.”

  Congratulations followed, and Mr. Collins received them with satisfaction, mentioning several times that Lady Catherine de Bourgh was very content with the situation.

  “So Mrs. Collins is at Lucas Lodge, and you came directly to visit us? How nice of you,” Mr. Bennet said.

  “I felt it was my obligation to do so. You are my closest relatives—except for my dear Charlotte and her family, and of course Lady Catherine, whose protection means more than any blood relation.”

  “You are very considerate, sir, but you should not have troubled yourself. It would be perfectly fine if we only met at the ball,” Mr. Bennet continued.

  “That would have been hardly acceptable, sir. Besides my desire of offering my best wishes as soon as possible, there is something that I would like to discuss with you and with Mrs. Bennet. I preferred not to delay it as time might be of importance. I confess I was tempted to write you a letter, but I resisted the urge as the subject is too delicate to be approached other than face to face.”

  “That sounds very serious, sir. What can be so urgent? What matter could affect you that we can influence?”

  “It does not so much affect me but Lady Catherine. And at the same time, it is related to my fair cousin Elizabeth.”

  Each word increased Elizabeth’s uneasiness, and she hoped that she misunderstood her cousin’s intention. Surely, he would not dare speak of such a thing. Surely, he would not open the subject of her marriage to Darcy in front of her father as Lady Catherine had done to her. Her prayers soon proved to be in vain.

  “Surely, you are only teasing us, sir. Mentioning Lady Catherine and Lizzy in the same sentence sounds awkward.” Mr. Bennet laughed.

  “Not at all, sir. I am afraid it is extremely serious. I feel it is my duty—as a cousin and as a clergyman—to warn you against an event that, as advantageous as it might appear at first glance, is likely to bring more regrets later.”

  “Well, now you have gained my complete attention, Mr. Collins. May I offer you a drink first?”

  “No, thank you; however, I would rather…perhaps this conversation should be carried on privately.”

  “Privately? I keep no secrets from my daughter and brother-in-law. But if you wish…”

  The library door opened again, and the servant announced solemnly, “Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir.”

  The gentlemen entered, and Elizabeth’s heart pounded while her eyes were immediately drawn by Darcy’s look. He greeted her silently, a little smile at the corner of his lips.

  Mr. Bingley obviously searched for Jane and his disappointment quickly shadowed his laughing expression.

  “Please come in; I am truly happy to see you,” Mr. Bennet said. “I was afraid the bad weather would keep you away today. Do not worry, Mr. Bingley; I shall send for Jane right away. She is taking care of her mother. Mrs. Bennet’s nerves were put on trial by this rain.”

  Mr. Collins was completely ignored for several moments, but he daringly took a step forward and bowed to the only person of interest to him, speaking with great anxiety.

  “Mr. Darcy, what a surprise to see you here, sir! I surely did not expect you to be in Hertfordshire. Lady Catherine mentioned she had met you in London a couple of weeks ago. She hoped you had returned to Pemberley by now. I did not imagine meeting you at Longbourn.”

  Darcy’s countenance darkened immediately. He briefly glanced at Elizabeth, a slight trace of panic on his face, and then responded with cold severity.

  “Mr. Collins, I fail to understand your surprise. How does it happen that I am accountable to you for my whereabouts? I expect that I am frequently in places you are not aware of, just as I rarely know where you are. My aunt’s hopes about my schedule are often unjustified, and they should not be discussed in public.”

  “I am sure Mr. Collins meant no harm, sir,” Mr. Bennet said. “We were just about to discuss something related to Lizzy that distressed your aunt when you entered. Could we postpone the conversation until tomorrow, sir?”

  Mr. Collins became uncomfortable while Darcy paled. Elizabeth looked at him in an attempt to calm him with a smile but only met his glare a moment before it turned to Mr. Collins again.

  “That is quite astonishing,” said Darcy. “I am sure Mr. Collins expressed himself poorly. Whatever might distress my aunt, I see no reason for you to be troubled by it, Mr. Bennet. As you share none of your distressing situations with my aunt, it is not fair that my aunt’s problems should burden you, sir. Mr. Collins surely understands that. In anything that involves my aunt, I believe I am the only one who should be concerned. Would you not agree, Mr. Collins?”

  “Well, I…Lady Catherine trusted me to…” Mr. Collins mumbled.

  “Mr. Collins! We should meet later and discuss this matter privately. It is rude of us to interrupt everyone with a conversation that does not concern them. I hope we agree upon this matter.”

  Elizabeth’s embarrassment increased as the entire exchange became increasingly awkward and distressing. She wondered whether anyone else—except her, Darcy, and Collins—suspected the truth behind his sharp words. The other gentlemen looked slightly amused and likely found the argument ridiculous.

  Mr. Collins seemed torn between his loyalty to Lady Catherine and his fear of Darcy’s apparent anger.

  “As you wish, sir,” Mr. Collins finally said. “I shall return to Meryton now; Charlotte is probably worrying for me. I beg you to excuse
me.” He bowed a few more times until he finally retired.

  Darcy made obvious attempts to regain his composure as he breathed deeply and thanked Mr. Gardiner for handing him a glass of wine. He locked eyes with Elizabeth, and his face lit slightly, but his pallor remained.

  Elizabeth excused herself to inform her mother and sisters of their guests’ arrival, and she was relieved when she found herself alone in the hallway. The entire afternoon had been disturbing—the conversation with her father, the half-said truth, Mr. Collins’s appearance, and then Mr. Darcy’s entrance and harsh settlement of the situation.

  He surely guessed the subject Mr. Collins wanted to discuss with her father, and she doubted things would end there. Mr. Collins’s determination was worthy of a better cause, but his lack of wit forbade his abandoning such attempts before they became dangerous.

  Chapter 7

  Longbourn’s drawing room soon became animated again. With rested nerves, Mrs. Bennet continued to blame the weather and to express her hope that the gentlemen did not catch a cold.

  Darcy put her at ease. “We thank you for your concern, ma’am, but I assure you, we are fine.”

  “Indeed, we wanted to come earlier, but we waited for the rain to stop,” Bingley said, happily seated next to his betrothed. “I must say—I have been spoiled by having dinner at Longbourn, and I truly missed it last night.”

  “How kind of you to say that, Mr. Bingley! Oh, I can hardly wait for the day when Netherfield and Longbourn will practically be one large home,” Mrs. Bennet uttered.

  Mr. Bennet disagreed. “I hope the houses remain as they are—two, and separated by a distance of three miles. Mr. Bingley and Jane deserve some privacy once they are married, and it is my secret hope that we shall see them less than we do now, at least for a while.”

  Jane blushed, and Bingley laughed awkwardly.

  “But I confess I shall miss these days,” Mr. Bennet admitted. “In a house of six ladies, male company is something I appreciate and rarely receive.”