In her room at the inn, Elizabeth asked herself why it should matter. They could both live perfectly fine lives without speaking to one another ever again. They mourned a girl whom Elizabeth had never met. It all should be nothing to her, and yet she could not deny the kinship she felt to them. She had felt something more for Mr. Darcy…if she had not ruined it.
The next day was Sunday, and she knew she would not see Darcy. On Monday, Elizabeth’s feet carried her to a familiar path near Pemberley’s grounds. The estate was so massive, and Darcy surely had so many responsibilities, that she dared not hope to see him again. However, she persisted in walking there over the next three days. At last, she saw him again.
“Miss Bennet,” he said as he flushed and quickly bowed.
Elizabeth coloured, as well. “Good morrow, Mr. Darcy.” Neither one spoke for several minutes. Elizabeth moved, determined to return to the inn.
“I regret that I have not seen you in several days. How have you been?”
Elizabeth looked at him over her shoulder. “Evading the questions of my aunt and uncle.”
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I have been much occupied with estate business and could not manage time to call.”
Elizabeth whirled to face him. “Do you still wish to?”
“Certainly,” he said. “I am delighted in my acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.”
“I meant,” the words rushed out of Elizabeth’s mouth and she forced herself to calm. “I meant, did you still wish to call upon me?”
“More than ever,” Darcy said as he approached. “I regret our last parting. I always seem to do or say the wrong thing. However, I think we ought to be honest with one another. It is one of the things I most admire about you.”
“Indeed, I have always been honest with you and appreciate that about you. I understand from your perspective that your sister’s marriage to Mr. George Wickham appeared as yet another instance of his abuse against you. However, might there not be another way to look at things?”
“I do not know that I wish to discuss this with you again. I would not like to disagree every time we meet.”
“Would you prefer honesty, or for me to agree with everything you say? I am no sycophant, sir.” She raised her chin.
“I would not wish you to be. If I wanted a woman to agree with everything I said, I would marry one of the ladies I have met in town. That is not one of the reasons I wish to know you better.”
“Why do you wish to know me better?”
Darcy reached for Elizabeth’s hands and squeezed them. “I cannot put it into words. I am drawn to you.”
“I think most others would say I have drawn you in.”
“Why would they say that?”
“I am nothing compared to your status. My relations are in trade, as you know. I have no superior acquaintances and am only worth fifty pounds.”
“Never say that,” Darcy approached closer. “A woman’s worth is not weighed in pounds and pence. It is only a mathematical equation, not a testament of a woman’s value or the love in a man’s heart.”
Elizabeth let out the breath she had been holding and squeezed his hands in return. “Nor does a gentleman’s income define the love in a woman’s heart.”
Darcy’s eyes lit up as an immediate smile came to his face.
“I am not interested in your income or your estate. I only wish to know that you are a kind gentleman and master. Do your servants and tenants respect you or fear you? If I had not a penny in the world or the command of all its riches, I would only wish for the same. I would wish only to be loved by the one so dear to me, as well.”
“Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered as he pulled her to him.
A piece of Elizabeth’s heart melted at his ardent display, but she had not meant the words as he took them. Or, she had not thought she had. Did she love him? It was far too early to know, was it not? “I am sure your sister felt the same.”
“What?” Darcy asked in disbelief as he peered down at her.
“Your sister must have loved Mr. George Wickham very much,” she said. He let go of her and Elizabeth immediately mourned the loss.
“What are you saying?”
“He claims to have loved her greatly and still mourns her.”
Pain and anguish crossed over Darcy’s face. “Has this all been a guise on his part? How much does he want from me this time? What has he paid you?”
Elizabeth drew back at the insult. “How dare you!”
“Tell me what I am supposed to think, Elizabeth! You claim my moods fluctuate but what of your own? One moment, you accept my advances and the next you say I broke my sister’s heart by not handing over thirty thousand pounds to a known fortune hunter. You speak words of love and then say they were only about George and my sister. If you have any care for me—”
“I do!” she cried. “I do care for you. I want you to find peace. It was terribly wrong of me to say what I did. I am sure you did not break your sister’s heart.”
Darcy searched her eyes. “But am I breaking yours?”
Elizabeth looked at the ground.
“Why does it matter if I make amends with George Wickham? Why should you care about him?”
Slowly, she lifted her eyes. “If you do not see the reason to end injustice and heal the breach with an innocent party, then you are not the man I thought you were.”
“You say he truly loved Georgiana, but I have experienced his cruelty and craftiness many times through the years. Why should you accept his word over mine? What proof do you have that could not have convinced me while Georgiana lived?”
Elizabeth felt tears stinging her eyes. “I only know what I have seen, sir. There was no guile in his voice or look when he expressed his love for your sister and explained why he never asked for her money. Do you doubt love’s ability to change a person—or rather to reveal their truth?”
Darcy turned away from her. Disgust flashed on his face. “You would see love where there is none.”
“Love cannot be proven with words, only actions. It is Christmas. If you cannot find love and forgiveness at this time of year, then when can you?”
He would not look at her but said in a voice so cold it chilled her heart. “I can never forgive him.”
Tears streamed down her face. She could not bear another interlude like this. Did he mean that she had imagined the love in his voice and looks, as well? Without another word, she returned to the inn. It would be the last she saw of Fitzwilliam Darcy, she vowed.
Chapter Six
Elizabeth wiped at her eyes all the way back to Lambton but was determined to regret Mr. Darcy no more. She could never love a man who had such a cold heart. She had thought there was more to him. However, she also knew it was due to pain more than hatred. While she pitied him and her heart yearned to comfort him, there could be nothing else.
The time of her visit to the area was drawing to a rapid close. They would leave the morning after Twelfth Night, making the ball George planned her last day in the area. They now saw him every day at either the inn, the office, or Mr. Fisher’s. At each encounter, George fixated conversation on the ball. It was evident to Elizabeth that all of his hopes and dreams were centered on the plan. His enthusiasm caught to others, and soon there was not a resident in Lambton that did not look forward to the ball. Elizabeth heard of it everywhere she went.
“There is not a man on this earth as good as young Wickham,” the milliner said to a customer one day.
“How splendid it will be to enjoy Christmas in the old way once more,” the customer replied. “I suppose he inherited more of the Christmas spirit than the new master of Pemberley did.”
“His father would be ashamed,” the milliner agreed.
It hurt Elizabeth’s heart to hear Mr. Darcy spoken of that way. She could see all too easily how it might appear to him. George Wickham was once again the favoured man. Elizabeth asked him about it one day.
“Do you not see how it might appear to Mr. Da
rcy?” she asked.
“Why should you care what Mr. Darcy feels about my ball?”
Elizabeth had no ready answer.
“If you were to ask me, you care rather too much about all things Mr. Darcy. You have not been alone on all those walks, have you?”
Elizabeth blushed. “I suppose you will tell me to beware.”
George shook his head. “Darcy would never dally with a lady’s feelings. If he has given you encouragement, then I wish you joy. He has earned the admiration of the worthiest lady, and you will have the love and devotion of an honourable man. I congratulate you most sincerely.”
“There will be no need for congratulations,” she said and avoided George’s eyes. She would not let him see her cry. “I have offended him too many times and spoken too openly. And he...he cannot forgive you.”
George touched Elizabeth’s arm so she would look at him. “Have you refused him due to our friendship? I would never wish you to deny your heart.”
Elizabeth’s lip quivered. “He did not ask, and I did not refuse. We value different things.” She attempted a shrug, but it seemed more like a shudder. “You do not wish him ill?”
“I have never wished him ill,” George said. “I can understand too well his reasons. I was not entirely truthful in our first conversation about him. Forgive me, I wished to impress a pretty new acquaintance. However, I will give my dear wife’s brother the benefit of acknowledging he has many reasons to distrust me. I can never deserve his forgiveness. I can see why it would appear to you, or even Darcy, that I hate him. I am unhappy with myself and I suppose I lash out in his presence. ”
As Lambton came to life with Christmas decorations, a somberness settled in Elizabeth’s heart. The very thing she most looked forward to, she now dreaded. The name of Mr. Darcy fell from everyone’s lips and continually in the disappointed way the milliner had spoken. She longed to tell them the truth—to illuminate the reasons why Christmas was too difficult for him to celebrate with the sort of joy he once had. Explaining it to others would be a violation of his privacy, but also would make her acknowledge that he was unlikely to ever change.
At last, Twelfth Night arrived. Elizabeth had spent the day packing and rearranging her clothes so she might avoid the incessant conversation of all things ball and George related. Her aunt had imagined an attachment between them and did much to promote it.
When Elizabeth arrived in Derbyshire, she was eager for Christmas festivities to erase the heartache she had endured since Lydia’s death. Now, seeing each decoration was merely a reminder of the pain Mr. Darcy must be feeling. How she wished she had not left things as they were between them.
At the appointed hour, Elizabeth dressed in her finest gown. It was nothing like a real ball gown, of course. She had never thought to bring one. Since Mr. Darcy would not be in attendance, she hardly felt it mattered. There was no one she desired to impress.
“Do you not look forward to this last evening with our friends?” Mrs. Gardiner asked. “I think Mr. George Wickham planned the entire thing out of preference for you.”
Elizabeth kept a sigh to herself and only shrugged her shoulders as she glanced out the upper window. “The sooner we leave Derbyshire the better.”
She heard the steps of her uncle behind her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Chin up, Lizzy. He is not worth all that. I always thought great men were very fickle in their manners.”
His words crushed Elizabeth’s heart even more. It was not Mr. Darcy’s manners that were the problem. He had loved too deeply and been hurt too many times to try again. She was not enough to replace all that he had lost.
“I say, Maggie, come and look,” Mr. Gardiner said. “What do you think is the matter out there?”
Although Elizabeth had directed her eyes out the window, she had not really been paying attention to what was outside. Now, she saw a crowd of people being barred from the inn. They called back names in anger.
“I will ask Sally what is going on,” Mrs. Gardiner said, and left to inquire with the maid stationed on the floor. She returned a few minutes later, frowning. “They are not admitting the lower classes. Now, the proprietor says he will not allow anyone not paying for a room, since his dining rooms will be used. He is demanding a ticket price to cover the empty rooms.”
“I thought Mr. George Wickham had arranged everything with him.”
“So had I,” Mr. Gardiner said. “He seemed most scrupulous.”
“There must be some mistake,” Elizabeth said.
The others agreed, and they made their way below. A few burly men stood with folded arms at the entrance of the inn. The proprietor spoke with Mr. Fisher, dressed for the ball, who looked nervously around the area already filled with several merchants in Christmas finery before leaving to talk to George. When they had finished, George made his way to their assembled group.
“This is an awful mess,” George hung his head. “I had not thought Stevens would demand a ticket price. If he were going to do that, he might have said it when I spoke with him. I do not know that I would have agreed, but it is too late to change plans now.”
Mr. Gardiner frowned. “It was likely a deliberate move. I suppose you do not have a contract.”
“For a ball?” George sadly shook his head. “I may be a solicitor by trade, but I do not agree with contracting everyone and everything. I have paid for the use of the tavern area and the staff. He can hardly be less any rooming business for it. What can he be thinking?”
“It is no use in worrying about what has made him do this,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “The better use of our time is to consider what to do. There is a large crowd of people who were expecting Christmas festivities. They grow angrier by the moment, and I think many were half in their cups before arriving.”
“Outside,” Elizabeth said. “We shall hold the ball outside.”
“Is it not too cold?” Mrs. Gardiner frowned.
“Not if you are dancing,” Elizabeth grinned. “Some of the shopkeepers could open their front rooms. Clear out their stock and open the area for those who are cold.”
“It might work,” George nodded. “However, there is the matter of refreshment. I do not think Stevens will give us the use of his staff or kitchens.”
“Whatever people have ready, they can bring to share. We shall feast and make merry, and it does not need to be grand or elaborate.” Elizabeth felt as though the Christmas spirit was finally catching in her again.
George and her aunt and uncle agreed with her suggestions. Mrs. Gardiner left to tell her father and friends of the change in plans, as did George. In a matter of minutes, Elizabeth and Mr. Gardiner were corralled into helping shops clear their front rooms or bringing out refreshments from their kitchens. The whole of Lambton, save Mr. Stevens, who now pleaded for George to return to the inn and there would be no ticket sale, had turned out to help. The sight brought tears to Elizabeth’s eyes. To see so many people working together toward a common goal was nothing short of beautiful.
Knowing the ball would be an abbreviated affair, the attendants packed as much amusement as they could into a short time. Elizabeth had never seen a more energetic group of dancers, heard livelier music, tasted sweeter wine or better food. There was not a single face without a smile, except hers. She was glad it all worked out well. That she knew, but she could not be light-hearted when her heart rested five miles away, with a man who would never again know the thrill of joy. While everyone else was consumed in the entertainment, she slipped away to a secluded corner to hide her tears of pain and regret.
Chapter Seven
Over the days since Darcy had last seen Elizabeth, he considered her words over and over again. What did she understand about these things? What did she know of the tricks George used to play on him, or the empty promises?
Still, he could not forget her voice and expression when she spoke of love. For a moment, a glorious moment, he had thought it was directed at him. That she had a great capacity to love was clear to
him from their earliest acquaintance. It must have only been his vanity which supposed she cared for him.
The evening of the intended Twelfth Night ball, Darcy gave his staff leave to attend. He said he would retire early. Instead of going to his chamber, he turned to his sister’s. It was left just as it had been during Georgiana’s life. In one corner there was a trunk full of the baby items she had begun accruing.
She always promised that he would see the difference in George. She vowed that once their child was born, he would see the gentleness she had always known. He admitted only to himself that for the sake of his niece or nephew, he would have tried. Had Georgiana lived, he would have tried to look for the best in George. Now? Now, it was all too late.
Worse than earning Georgiana’s love, George now had Elizabeth’s. Darcy had fought it. He had not wanted to admit to loving her, for every person he had ever loved had been taken from him.
Do you doubt love’s ability to change a person—or rather to reveal their truth?
What did who George loved say about him? Darcy had always thought that George had merely taken advantage of Mr. Darcy and Georgiana. However, Elizabeth had no long-standing relationship with him. The best people Darcy had ever known respected and loved George. If nothing else, he must give George credit for loving the most deserving.
Darcy’s father had been one of the best men. He was still talked of as the best landlord and master. Georgiana was the sweetest and tenderest person. He was not prejudiced; many people said so of her. Elizabeth had accepted all but the very worst in him and had pushed for him to be more. She was the sort of woman with whom a man could grow old.
George had always loved the very people Darcy loved. What was it that made the two of them so different? George seemed most willing to do anything to gain the love of those he sought. Darcy had always assumed it was Georgiana who was unwilling to have George ask about the dowry. However, if that were the case, then why did he still not ask for it after all these years? They were legally wed. He had a claim to the money.
How Darcy Saved Christmas Page 5