by Lory Lilian
“It was not their wealth but the richness of their character that made me change my mind about who is deserving of my friendship, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth responded coldly.
“Still, it is surprising that Darcy decided to leave in the middle of the night. Whatever the problem might have been, surely it could wait until morning.”
Mrs. Bennet slammed her fork on the plate so hard that everyone started and turned to her in shock.
“For Heaven’s sake, Mr. Wickham, you are as handsome as a man can be, but you strangely resemble our cousin Mr. Collins. Why do you keep talking about Mr. Darcy? Whatever problems you might have had with him are all in the past. He is the friend of my future son-in-law, and he has been nothing but amiable to us lately. Do not stir up the past! Can you not enjoy your breakfast?”
In his astonishment, Wickham seemed to unable to reply, so Lydia hurried to his aid.
“Mama, why are you so harsh with my husband? He does not deserve such criticism! Did you not say that he is a fine, good-looking man?”
“Hush, Lydia, do not upset me, child. I am astonished that your husband can follow orders in his regiment when he cannot obey a simple request. Since we met, he has continued to blame Mr. Darcy for every ill in his life. We all heard you, Mr. Wickham. He was mean and unfair. He denied you the living left by your godfather. But now, you have a new commission. You are an officer. Enough of this.”
“But, Mama—”
“No ‘Mama,’ Lydia. Let us not pretend we are all fooled and oblivious to the truth. I am happy if you are happily married, my dear. But honestly, eloping with a sixteen-year-old girl is not honourable. Nor is allowing my brother Gardiner to pay for debts on card games and the purchase of a commission. So I would be content if your husband—my first son-in-law—would continue to be handsome, pleasant, and less hasty in judging others. Let us eat now; my nerves cannot bear all this excitement.”
A deep, heavy silence fell over the chamber while everyone stared at Mrs. Bennet in disbelief. She filled her plate with cheese, meat, and fruits then looked around inquiringly. Immediately, all eyes turned to own food and only the sounds of eating were heard for some time.
“Excellent breakfast as always, Mrs. Bennet,” her husband eventually complimented her, and she only nodded in approval.
Elizabeth lacked an appetite but pretended to enjoy the meal, dazzled by her mother’s commanding attitude and rational judgement. She kept glancing at the mistress of the house, puzzled and ashamed of all the times she had blamed her for improper manners. A short exchange was enough to prove that her father, aunt, and uncle shared her astonishment.
Mr. Wickham said not a word more until breakfast ended.
***
In the afternoon, Mr. Bingley called with Mr. Godwin and the Wilson brothers while the ladies at Netherfield continued to rest after the ball.
“We shall leave today and wished to take our farewell,” Mr. Hugh Wilson said. “It was such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and we hope to see all of you again soon.”
“Mr. Gardiner, we should meet in Town when you return,” Mr. David Wilson added.
“It would be an honour, sir,” Mr. Gardiner accepted.
Refreshments were offered, and conversation commenced. Mr. Godwin found a chance to sit near Elizabeth and engaged her in a private discussion, assuring her that he was delighted to spend time with her.
“I pray another chance might arise to see you again very soon, Miss Bennet. If not for my sister’s insistence and eagerness to return to London today, I would have happily prolonged my stay in Hertfordshire. It is my desire to know you better.”
She struggled to maintain a friendly smile as she answered with all possible politeness. “I was delighted to meet you too, sir, as well as your sister, the Miss Kendals, and the Wilson brothers. It would be my great pleasure to see you again should the opportunity arise. I believe accompanying your sister to Town is a wise decision. You must be careful of her safety in this weather on bad roads.”
She hoped he understood. A slight shadow on his face proved he did. He appeared puzzled; he evidently expected her to be grateful for his declared preference.
He seemed to search for words then suddenly said, “The roads are bad indeed. I hope Darcy and the colonel ended their journey safely.”
Her smile felt forced. “I pray for that. I am sure they will send a note to inform Mr. Bingley once they reach their destination. I also pray that you and your companions have speedy and uneventful travel back to Town, sir.”
“I thank you, Miss Bennet. I wish you all the best.” He bowed, and shortly after that, all the guests returned to Netherfield.
Elizabeth excused herself and retired to her chamber not long after their departure. She excused herself from dinner and went to sleep earlier than she remembered doing in her adult life. She needed—desired—time for herself. Time to be alone with her thoughts, with her memories, with her hopes. All tightly bonded to him.
***
The Wickhams returned north two days after the ball. Mr. Bennet paid their travelling expenses, sad to witness his youngest daughter joyfully leaving with her unworthy husband.
Mrs. Bennet repaid her severity with many hugs and kisses to both Lydia and her husband, asking them to write often and visit when they could. The separation from the other sisters was brief and awkward with warm embraces for Lydia and polite goodbyes for Wickham.
Days flew between Netherfield and Longbourn with wedding arrangements, Jane making changes to her new apartment, Mrs. Bennet stressing herself and everybody else with the wedding breakfast, and Mrs. Gardiner struggling to keep everyone calm.
Miss Bingley invited her future relatives to dine at Netherfield only twice, but Mr. Bingley often hunted with the gentlemen from Longbourn and spent time with them in the library. Jane was at Netherfield almost daily, as her future husband always wanted her advice and opinion on something. Elizabeth always kept her company, fighting her own sadness to cheer her sister’s anxious felicity.
“My dear, you worry me,” Mrs. Gardiner told her privately one evening. “I have never seen you so distressed. While I suspect what troubles you, please let me know how I may help. I cannot stand to see you this way.”
“Forgive me, dear aunt. I hope the others have not noticed my low spirits. I would dread spoiling Jane’s engagement with my silly, selfish distress.”
“Dearest, blaming yourself will only increase your troubles. It would help you more if you try to be sensible. Do you have a reason for such torment? Is there any arrangement that had been broken?”
“No…no arrangement…I mean…Mr. Darcy confessed he planned to call on us after the ball. He said he wished to speak privately with me. He did not say as much but let me guess the subject of the conversation. There was no doubt…”
“Truly? I could not be happier. Then why such turmoil? Why this shadow that has darkened your eyes and stolen your smile for so many days? You should know that Mr. Darcy is not a man to break his promise.”
“He did not promise me anything, Aunt. Of his desires, I stopped doubting some time ago. But he would not avoid his duty either.”
“But, Lizzy—what do you fear?”
“I fear that Lady Catherine might convince him to marry his cousin Anne…since she is so ill. I know that she had been ill for many years. She was not even presented at court because of her poor state. He might feel sorry for her and—”
“I do not believe that could happen, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy is not a weak man who would allow anyone to make decisions for him. I am sure he will take care of his cousin in a different manner.”
“But what if his feelings of mercy are stronger than his affection for me? What should I do? I cannot see him again if he is married. I cannot bear the notion of waiting to…oh dear…that is such a horrible thought. I am such a ho
rrible human being!”
Elizabeth wiped her tears furiously while Mrs. Gardiner started to laugh.
“My dear, I never thought to see you in such a state of despair and sorrow because of love. It pleases me to know the depth of your feelings for the gentleman. He deserves no less.”
Laughter lit Elizabeth’s misty eyes. “I do love him, Aunt; if I could only tell you. Everything I feel is so strong, so powerful, yet so painful. I never imagined love could be like this. My heart laughs and cries at the same time. So much joy and so much pain…I have no control over my mind and my soul. I am weak, absurd, unreasonable…”
“You are just in love, dearest—nothing less and nothing more. Be happy and grateful. Few women are blessed with the experience of true love, and even fewer know their love is shared. Be grateful for your luck.”
“I am grateful, Aunt. I know I do not deserve such complete happiness, and I still hope and beg the Lord for it. This is why I am so terrified that I might lose it before I actually embrace it.”
“Fear not, Lizzy. If Mr. Darcy is the man I know and your happiness is in his hands, he will bring it to you.”
“Mr. Darcy is my happiness, dear aunt. I needed an entire year to realize it, and I pray for a lifetime to cherish it.”
“Keep praying, dearest. And trust the man you love so deeply. He is either worthy or unworthy of your affection, and you will soon have the proof.”
***
Conversations with her aunt were rather frequent the next days; they did not dissipate Elizabeth’s distress but helped her bear it easier.
Mr. Bingley received two letters from his friend, both explaining the dangerous state of Miss de Bourgh’s health. He, however, was interested in nothing but his upcoming wedding, so he provided few and insignificant details. Therefore, Elizabeth’s days were restless and continued into her sleepless nights.
Still, Elizabeth had little time to pity herself. Longbourn was busy and crowded with visitors and preparations that let them exhausted at the end of the day.
With worry and eager anticipation, the waiting finally came to an end. Only one night separated Jane from the beginning of her blissful new life—and Mrs. Bennet from the end of all her worries.
Mr. Bingley did not call at Longbourn at all that day. The family was alone, but the din grew louder than ever. The ladies spoke, asked, answered, and changed their minds constantly, trying on gowns and jewels without liking any.
Mr. Gardiner was demanded to stay with them, offering his advice when asked while being ignored each time. Mr. Bennet skilfully managed to retire to his library, protecting himself from the agitation.
By noon, winter had conquered the weather; it started to snow, and soon it grew into a blizzard—like the one overwhelming Elizabeth’s tormented soul.
Two weeks had passed since the ball, and still Darcy did not return. The wedding was the following day, and he was still away. Not even a third letter arrived.
If he wished, he could have found a way to return. He said he would be there for his best friend’s wedding. Had he broken his promises before?
The uncertainty added to her turmoil and crushed any remaining joy she felt for Jane’s felicity. Soon, Jane would be at Netherfield, her uncle and aunt would return to London, and she would still be alone and lonely.
In the drawing room, Mrs. Bennet complained about the weather again. As before the ball, she was certain a curse had fallen upon her to ruin the most important day of her life. However, her torment was lessened; this time, she did not care about the guests being unable to attend. All that mattered was seeing Jane wedded to Mr. Bingley. The bride and groom and the clergyman were all in the neighbourhood, so she would get them to the church even if she had to carry them.
An hour before dinner, it was already dark outside, and the blizzard grew stronger. Mr. Bennet joined them, carrying a glass of wine. His appearance was cheered and his opinion immediately required upon travelling to the church in two or three carriages. He had no answer but approached his second daughter and sat by her side.
“Lizzy dearest,” he said a few moments later, “be so kind as to bring me the paper I left on my desk in the library.”
“Of course, Papa,” she replied hurriedly, grateful for a chance to escape the noise even briefly. The silence would spare her struggling to conceal her distress in order to protect her sister’s joy.
She opened the library door, indifferent to her surroundings. The darkness was lit only by a solitary candle, burning weakly and lonely. Like her soul. She stepped toward the desk; then her steps ceased, and her knees weakened.
The thin light revealed a shadow against the wall. The wild racing of her heart and a scent that made her dizzy betrayed the truth before her eyes became accustomed to it.
She put her hands on her chest to steady her pounding heart.
“Mr. Darcy…!”
“Miss Bennet…”
Chapter 12
“This is…how? I never imagined…what happened? When did you arrive?”
He took a step forward, and his image became clearer in the dark chamber. His face was almost crimson, and fatigue shadowed his eyes. His hair was dishevelled by the wind and snow. Is he cold? she wondered, fighting a desire to embrace him.
“You must not be afraid,” he said, misled by her astonishment. “I am here with your father’s permission. I arrived earlier by the back door, and Mr. Bennet kindly offered me a drink. We talked briefly, and he granted me the privilege of speaking to his favourite daughter alone.”
His husky voice was softened by the smile that touched his lips and eyes.
“I am never afraid of you, sir. I am…it is good to see you. I was just…” she whispered, dumbfounded. “It is just that I thought you were with your cousin Miss De Bourgh. Is she well? Did you travel in this blizzard? It must be dangerous on the road—”
“My cousin Anne is safe in my uncle’s house. She was very ill indeed and desired to move to London with our relatives, where she is slowly recovering. As she is adequately cared for, I had no reason to delay. I made Bingley a promise, and I could not break it.”
“Yes…I am glad Miss De Bourgh is better. Charles will be so happy to see you! Does he know you are here?”
“Nobody knows I am here except your father…and you. I could not allow anything to interfere again or deter me from the main purpose of my hasty return. I had another promise to keep—one that I had no chance to express—to someone infinitely more important to me than Bingley. No blizzard could have kept me away. I hope—I trust—my meaning is clear.”
The room seemed to shrink around her, and it felt as warm as the hottest summer day. She struggled to breathe as she bit her lips, which would not obey her with an answer.
From inches away, he stretched out his hands to her, silently asking for hers, and she willingly offered them. Her trembling fingers found comfort as his strong palms closed around them.
“May I dare speak further?”
“Yes…yes, please.”
“Then I should better ask: Did you not feel my wordless promise, Miss Bennet?”
“I did…but so many feelings overwhelmed me that I did not know which to trust more. I knew it was duty that called you—that you have to do what your honour demands. And I feared…”
“You feared…?” He slowly lifted her hands to his lips and gently pressed a kiss upon them.
“Did you doubt that I would return to speak openly of what was long overdue—of what my feelings betrayed months ago? That I would miss the chance of calling you “my Elizabeth”? That I would waste the blessing of a lifetime of happiness? That family duty or a blizzard could stop me?”
She laughed from restrained emotion, and tears fell freely on her cheeks.
“I confess I did. My heart’s voice was powerful enough, and I dared gu
ess what you wanted to tell me from the day Charles interrupted us at Oakham Mount. But so many things have happened since then, and fate seemed against us, not allowing a moment of privacy. I should have known better—I did know—and I sensed it. But in spite of every endeavour, I found it impossible to conquer my disbelief.”
He moved closer, bringing their entwined hands to the place where both their hearts beat in unison. His hands released hers as his thumbs wiped her tears and tenderly caressed her face. She wondered whether she would faint, but when his arms closed around her, her lost strength found renewal in his power.
“I have missed you so much, Elizabeth—much more than I can say.”
“Then say no more. I shall learn to see it…to feel it…”
“Do you still have doubts? Must I tell you with my weak and clumsy words how ardently I love and admire you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth? That everything I felt for you last April has grown so much stronger and deeper that it frightens me? That my heart, my mind, my life are as nothing when we are apart? That I must beg you to complete me by never leaving my arms again?”
“Yes, you do have to tell me—again and again,” she answered, her own hands daring to touch his handsome face. “Only then, will I have the courage to confess that I, too, have learned the meaning of ardent love. That my mind, my body, and my soul have not rested since I left Pemberley. That pain, regret, and sorrow filled every part of my heart that was not filled with my love for you. I wish to throw away those dread feelings forever. It is time…”
“Yes, it is time, my love.”
His face moved towards her, and his warm breath caressed her skin. His lips brushed the corner of her mouth, and she sighed with delightful expectation. A trace of soft kisses tantalized her jaw until they reached her ear. Soft whispers sent chills down her spine.
“Did I ask whether you would do me the honour of becoming my wife?”