by Kara Louise
“Well! If that is the case, let us move to the drawing room. There is no reason to remain here if Miss Bennet is not to play!”
We adjourned to the drawing room, which was definitely more comfortable and there was more sitting room. As Miss Elizabeth was absent, I remained alongside Anne, deciding to bestow my attention upon her.
We came upon the drawing room and everyone took a seat quietly, awaiting Lady Cat’s introduction of a subject about which to converse. Fitzwilliam made no attempt to hide his disconsolation upon hearing Miss Elizabeth would not be present.
I turned to my master. At least, I attempted to turn to my master. I searched to the left and to the right and did not see him. I could not discern but the faintest trace of his scent. Certainly, he followed us into the room, did he not?
As I apprehended his disappearance, so did Lady Cat.
“Now where is my nephew? Did anyone see where my nephew has gone?”
Each person looked around and no one seemed to know what happened to him. Except Anne.
“He has gone to her,” she said very softly to me. “And I fear the result will not be as he expects.”
Chapter 19
At first I thought my ears had played tricks on me, so astounded was I by Anne’s declaration. She believed my master to have gone to see Miss Elizabeth but the results would not be what he expected! What could Anne possibly have meant and how could she be so positively certain of the outcome? Quiet, frail Anne, who lived in the shadows of her overbearing mother, undoubtedly comprehended far more than one could imagine. How had she deduced my master’s expectations, and more importantly, were they in line with mine?
Fitzwilliam was noticeably distracted and kept looking about for his cousin, expecting him to return at any moment. Lady Cat’s displeasure that her favourite nephew had uncharacteristically and without explanation disappeared was expressed in no uncertain terms. The Collinses made every attempt to pacify Lady Cat while young Miss Lucas sat rigidly still, pale, and meek as if any movement might incur Lady Cat’s wrath upon her.
Anne sat placidly with her hands resting in her lap as her mother continued her onslaught. At length, Lady Cat turned her attention to informing Mrs. Collins on the proper manner in which to manage her household, and I observed Anne’s head tilt off to the side and her eyes closed. I knew now there would be little opportunity to ascertain her meaning as she would soon be taken up to her chambers. When Lady Cat perceived her daughter’s sleeping form, she called for Mrs. Jenkinson. As her companion fussed to help her to her feet, Anne furtively opened one eye to catch my notice and whispered, “Come with me.”
I obligingly followed them upstairs and Anne asked Mrs. Jenkinson to allow her some time to read, requesting that I would be allowed to remain. At Mrs. Jenkinson’s worried look, she assured that she would ring for her when she was ready for bed.
When Mrs. Jenkinson departed the room, Anne looked down at me. She had not been fabricating her fatigue; I could see it and her weakness permanently etched in her features. But I also knew she wished to talk to me.
“I fear that more than one party will be distressed this evening. Did you not observe him tonight when we were informed of Miss Bennet’s illness? There was great disappointment in his features, as if he was struggling deep from within.” The toll of her efforts to relate this to me was great, for weariness clouded her pale eyes, yet she continued.
“Then I apprehended a sudden look of inspiration. He looked about quickly at everyone but me -- he rarely attends me, you know -- and as he thought everyone was distracted, he quietly removed himself.” She looked toward the window and let out a pitiful sigh. “He has gone to make her an offer.”
My tail thumped heartily against the floor upon hearing those words and I was sure my eyes showed my great pleasure.
She put a hand down as if to stop me. “No, Reggie. When he returns, he will be gravely distraught.” She took in a deep breath, I suspect as much to give her strength as to give her a few moments’ pause. Her eyes were like windows into the world, reflecting the tumult from without while sheltering what lay within. “She will not accept him. She is not even mindful of his regard. I have observed the looks she gives my cousin, and I do not believe she thinks well of him.” She shook her head and sighed, closing her eyes briefly as I felt myself grow cold. “Miss Bennet is not one to marry solely for advantage; therefore she will not have him.”
I did not want to believe her. If indeed he went to her to make her an offer, he must have at least truly believed she returned his esteem, would he not?
But in truth, I knew that Anne was correct, and I let out an agonizing howl. I recognized the only display of his particular regard had been when he sought Miss Bennet out on their walks; yet all the while, she likely believed the meetings had been purely accidental. She wrongly perceived the comfort he felt in walking silently by her side as a sure indication that he truly wished to be anywhere else. And the few disconnected questions he peppered in her direction left her more bewildered than flattered, whilst my master laboured under the misapprehension that they were a sure indication of his fervent interest. All those conversations where she challenged his every word left him with a sense of exhilaration whereas she believed there could not be two more dissimilar people in all the country.
Anne continued in a soft voice, “He always made certain that he never paid me any particular attention that might add encouragement to my mother’s assertion that we would wed. When we were quite young, he would look at me and frown or stick out his tongue whenever the subject was broached, but soon thereafter, he learned that was not acceptable behaviour for a Darcy.” She let out a weak laugh.
“It was always the most difficult just before he visited. Mother would remind me over and over that my future husband was about to arrive and that I was not to overexert myself. She would enumerate his good qualities and assure me how pleased she would be the day I became his wife.” Anne sadly shook her head. “She never once considered that he might not hold as strongly to the promise that my mother and his mother made long ago.”
She closed her eyes and I watched as she brought her small hand up to her heart. “Even though I knew there was very little chance of it, I held onto a very small hope that perhaps he would -- someday and somehow -- fall in love with me.”
I let out a sympathetic moan. “If he did not,” she continued, her voice growing increasingly soft, “I hoped that he would not enter into an engagement until after…” She paused as a single tear trailed down her cheek. “Until after I met someone who held me in deep regard.” She looked down at me. “I knew it would be easier for me to see him with the lady he would wed if I knew someone else loved me, as well.”
She was quiet now and closed her eyes. It had been a great effort, both physically and emotionally, for her to have spoken so deeply. And now we both awaited his return, wondering what his state would be.
*~*~*
My master returned a short time later, successfully escaping notice by entering through the servants’ entrance and going directly to his chambers. Being upstairs, Anne and I heard his thunderous steps coming up the stairs and marching toward his chambers.
Anne looked at me and whispered, “You had best go to him.”
I walked slowly down the hall and found the door to his chambers closed. I found it necessary to paw at the door several times before he opened it to me.
Keeping his eyes averted from me, he allowed me entrance, closing the door quietly behind me after I cautiously entered. He spoke not a word as he paced about the room, his hands interlaced together behind his back and his head down. As he walked by me, I could see the anger and anguish drawn upon his features and watched as his chest heaved as if it were a struggle to take each breath. Finally, stopping at a chair, he grasped the back of it and his eyes met mine. “She refused me!” he spat out and said no more, dropping his head down.
I knew not what to do to ease his pain. I felt a terrible weight lay upon me. All
this had been my fault. I had been the one to encourage this match when my master had resolutely decided against it and Miss Bennet had never even considered it.
His head remained downcast and he brusquely ran his fingers through his hair, grasping a handful. My head fell in dejection and sympathy for my poor master, my chin all the way to the floor.
The only sound heard was the constant ticking of the clock on the mantel and an occasional heaving sigh. He finally allowed himself the luxury of collapsing in a chair, although his change in position did nothing to ease his pain or dispel his anger. He stared straight ahead, his eyes glazed over. An occasional pinching of his eyes indicated to me that he was recalling a most painful, unpleasant incident.
A sharp knock at the door startled both of us. My master closed his eyes and steeled himself to answer. He stood up and straightened his coat, taking a moment’s pause before calling out, “Come.”
In walked Fitzwilliam, who took one glance at my master and seemed taken aback by his cousin’s comportment. “Pray, Darcy, what is it? You left without saying a word! You look quite dreadful! Are you unwell?”
At first my master shook his head, but then offered, “Yes, Fitzwilliam. Pray inform our aunt that I have taken ill and express my regret to the others that I was forced to quit the party without informing anyone.”
“Shall I ring for the servant to fetch you something? Do you require anything?”
“No, no. I merely need some rest.”
“Certainly, Darcy.” I watched him scrutinize the slumped form before turning to step out the door. As he took the doorknob in hand, he gave his cousin a sly grin. “If you did not look so poorly, I would have sworn that you fabricated your ailment this evening. With Miss Bennet absent, the conversation tonight is dull, uninspiring, and wholly tedious! She always adds such a spark -- a liveliness to the conversation. I quite often find myself pleasantly surprised by some of the things she says!” With that, he departed the room and closed the door behind him.
“And I find myself surprisingly distraught by some of the things she says,” he retorted quietly.
Once Fitzwilliam left, my master took to his feet again and paced the room. Despite what he had told his cousin, rest seemed to be the only thing he could not claim. For several hours that night, he tormented himself with the accusations I can only surmise Miss Elizabeth threw his way.
“I have never desired your good opinion! “ His fist pounded the desk at which he was sitting, startling my senses. “You have no idea, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, how relentlessly that good opinion pursued me! Even when I made every attempt to disregard it!”
He stood up and savagely pulled off his cravat and flung it across the room. “I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry! “ His fists tightened and his face reddened as he recollected her words. “There are many ladies out there, Elizabeth Bennet, who would be flattered by my attention and would readily accept any offer I would choose to make!”
“Your character was unfolded in the recital from Mr. Wickham!” He closed his eyes and shook his head painfully. “How has he deceived you, Elizabeth?”
He was silent for a few moments before softly uttering a final accusation.
“Had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner!” He jerked his head to the side and appeared not to have a retort for a few moments. I know not how he behaved in making his offer, but as I had never witnessed anything but gentlemen-like behaviour from him in the past, I could not fathom this accusation was accurate.
His final words were uttered in a desperate whisper. “Why, Elizabeth? Why?” He closed his eyes and clasped his mouth with his hand. His body tensed and he extinguished the candle, darkness filling the room much like it had filled his soul.
It was disheartening for me to have seen the anguish and to feel that there was nothing I could do for him.
After long hours of chastising both himself and Miss Elizabeth in turn, he abruptly walked over to his desk, seemingly with purpose. He lit a candle, sat down, and drew out some paper and ink. He stared at it for some time before putting pen to paper. I suspected he was writing a letter to Miss Elizabeth, for there were parts that gave him great pain. He would stop, close his eyes, and shake with rage. He laboured greatly composing this letter and just as the sun was lighting the sky with a new day, he set his seal upon it.
At length, he picked up his letter and looked at me. Comprehending that he was going to seek out Miss Elizabeth, I scrambled to the door of the chambers, wagging my tail eagerly. My master shook his head sadly. “Reggie, you must remain here. This is not an occasion for you to accompany me. It will be difficult enough for me to face Miss Bennet, and she will most likely not be pleased with this encounter. But I must present her with this letter.”
I lay my head down upon my paws and let out a moan. “I am sorry,” he said. Abruptly he left and the door slammed behind him.
Chapter 20
Two months later
I was grateful our stay in London on our return to Pemberley lasted but a week. More than the dirty London air made our stay insufferable. My master was in such a state of disquiet that his cousin, Fitzwilliam was anxious to move on. After enquiring after my master’s distress and receiving no satisfaction in reply, they bid each other a quick farewell.
My master tended to some business, but declined any and all invitations extended to him. He chose not to even notify the Bingleys that he was in town. I suspect that he was in no mood for any sort of social engagement and the only thing he desired was solitude.
It pained me to see my master suffer. Once we returned to Pemberley, he made every attempt to acquire a semblance of regulation again, but even there it seemed to elude him.
On one of our walks, he told me he sent for Georgiana, professing the hope that her presence would be a balm to his fractured soul. He did not think he could tell her what had happened, but at least she might bring some simple joy and pleasure back into his life.
Georgiana arrived shortly thereafter. Though my master greeted her warmly, I could see the flicker of concern behind her loving embrace.
It was clear she could see immediately that my master had undergone a dreadful ordeal. His features were gaunt and drawn and his eyes were dark and weary. Anyone could ascertain that he had suffered through too many ignored meals and sleepless nights. While he attempted to give her his undivided attention, his mind often drifted and it took a great deal of effort for him to respond with any sort of clarity.
I was visiting her in her chambers one morning after breakfast when she confessed to me how disconcerting it was to observe her brother behaving so unaccountably. That evening she played the pianoforte and she looked pointedly at me and then towards her brother across the room with great concern as he did not seem to be receiving any pleasure from her music. In the past, her playing had always been quite soothing to my master regardless of his state of mind, but tonight he remained restless and tense.
When he stood up and quickly quit the room, her stricken countenance made me realize that she felt she was somehow responsible for his troubled temperament.
“I am worried, Reggie. Fitzwilliam is so altered. Nothing pleases him. Could it be that he has not forgotten? It has been just a year since it occurred!” Her eyes glistened with the formation of tears. “Is he still tortured by my error in judgment?”
I walked over and extended my paw to her, wishing I could make her understand that something else prompted his behaviour.
But without the benefit of understanding canine communication, her suspicion persisted, until four days later, whereupon -- unable to bear it any longer -- Georgiana confronted my master.
We were in the music room again, and when my master neglected to compliment her on her playing when she had finished her piece, she stared at him most acutely. She slowly stood up from the instrument and walked over to her brother, placing herself directly in front of her. His eyes took a mo
ment to register her presence.
“That was played very well, Georgiana.”
“What did I play?”
“I beg your pardon. What do you mean ‘what did I play’?”
“It appears you heard my question, but I cannot claim the same confidence that you heard my music.”
He looked down and shook his head. “You are correct, Georgiana. My mind was engaged elsewhere. Pray, forgive me.”
She moved to the empty space on the settee next to him and placed her hand upon his. “Tell me, Fitzwilliam, what has happened that has made you so despondent?”
He looked up and made an attempt to smile. “Nothing has happened.”
Georgiana shook her head. “No, Fitzwilliam. That will not do.” She looked down at her hands as her fingers nervously intertwined one another. “I cannot help but wonder if you still hold me responsible for those events at Ramsgate with Wick...”
My master quickly interrupted her. “Georgiana, no! It is not because of something you have done! Please, dearest, do not think it your fault.”
“Then what is the cause of it?
Dropping his head back, he peered out of almost closed eyes at his sister. I believed him to be pondering whether he could tell her of Miss Elizabeth. I was of the opinion he should. It was crucial that he unburden himself to someone.
Finally, he whispered, “You were correct, Georgiana. Something indeed has occurred.” He took in a deep breath. “When you suspected me of forming a deep attachment for a lady whilst at Netherfield, indeed I had.”
Georgiana’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. Very meekly, she asked, “Miss Bingley?”
He let out a small bitter laugh. “No, my dear. Someone else.”
Georgiana’s eyes lit up. “Who is she? Am I acquainted with her?”