Pledged to Mr Darcy

by Valerie Lennox

  “They may be real,” said Elizabeth. “But he gives them grudgingly. He loves me in spite of the fact that I am ‘inferior to him in every way.’ And this is not even counting the fact that he said that I was only tolerable at the Meryton Assembly.”

  “He must have changed his mind since,” said Jane.

  “You think I must marry him, don’t you?”

  “You don’t wish to?”

  “Well, what of what he did to you and Bingley? What of that? He caused you so much heartache.”

  Jane shook her head. “The pain I felt in the rejection of Mr. Bingley is nothing compared to the pain I feel now. When I think of all of it, I feel as though I was nothing more than a silly girl. I could not hold a grudge for that.”

  “And what of what happened between him and Mr. Wickham? What of that?”

  “Well, we have only Mr. Wickham’s side of that.”

  “I don’t think Mr. Wickham was lying. He seems quite the truthful type.”

  “I agree. He does not seem like a liar. Perhaps it is some misunderstanding, however?”

  “It does not seem a misunderstanding,” said Elizabeth, feeling sullen. “It seems as though Mr. Darcy is an unfeeling sort of man who makes decisions largely because of what he deems to be the correct thing for his superior station in life. He is altogether so arrogant that I do not think I shall ever be able to stand him.”

  “So, you are going to refuse him?”

  Elizabeth sighed.

  “He may have faults, Lizzy. What man doesn’t? But if you are correct, and he assumes you engaged already, it will be an even more prickly business getting out of it. And he does seem to care about you. He has been good to us.”

  Elizabeth squeezed the pillow tighter. “Yes, you are right.” She sighed again. Then she tossed the pillow down on the bed and flopped down on it, staring at the ceiling. “You know what I cannot seem to keep out of my mind right now?”

  “What?” said Jane, lying down next to her.

  “I cannot help but think that he has gone to Netherfield where Miss Bingley is, and that she was so enamored with him, and that he has remembered her, and that he will not come back. And when I think of that, I cannot abide it.”

  Jane chuckled softly.

  “Oh, stop it, Jane,” said Elizabeth. “I do not even know why I care to think of all this. How can things like marriage even matter anymore? With all this death and grief?”

  “The future is coming for all of us, Lizzy,” said Jane. “You must think of that.”

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth. “And none of us can deny that an alliance with Mr. Darcy would not be a boon to the family.”

  “You mustn’t think of that when you are making your decision. Papa would not wish you to.”

  “Perhaps Papa was an impractical sort of person,” said Elizabeth. “He married Mama, didn’t he?”

  “Lizzy!” Jane admonished. But then she started to laugh. “Oh, it is hard to imagine what drew them to each other, isn’t it?”

  Elizabeth laughed too.

  They lay together, laughing and thinking of their parents. And then they both seemed to realize that their parents were gone, and they fell silent and grim.

  “I miss them in spite of it all,” said Elizabeth.

  “As do I,” said Jane.

  “But they were not happy together, were they? Papa spent all his time making fun of Mama, and she never even noticed. She was always aggravating him. He was always hiding from her. It was… what if I end up just as unhappy with Mr. Darcy?”

  “Well, in that case, I’m sure you can both retire to different homes in different parts of the country,” said Jane. “His money would help smooth everything over, wouldn’t it?”

  “I’m not even going to respond to that.”

  “And you’ll invite me to live with you, your spinster sister.”

  “Stop it,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy says that Mr. Bingley has come back to Netherfield. Tomorrow, we shall call there ourselves. Mr. Bingley will see you and fall in love with you all over again.”

  * * *

  But a letter came from Darcy the next morning telling them the news of Mr. Bingley. He was staying there to assist his sister in the preparations and he would see them when he could.

  Elizabeth was horrified with the news. She expected Jane to crumple under it, but Jane bore up rather well. She cried a little, but not much. She said that for all that she had thought Mr. Bingley meant to her, they had not known each other very well. In the end, losing him was nearly like losing a stranger. She had not seen him in months now, and his loss did not compare to the losses they had already weathered in the family.

  The Philipses arrived to pay their respects, their aunt sobbing quietly over their mother’s body. Their aunt and uncle had been prevented from coming earlier because of the fear of the sickness, but they said that there were fewer and fewer reports of it coming in, and that they had deemed it safe to come at this point. Mrs. Philips told Jane that all of the girls must come to stay with them. She said they would be happy to take them in, since Longbourn would no longer be theirs.

  It was what Elizabeth had expected would be offered, and she and Jane both thanked their aunt, but made no promises.

  Within another day, Mr. Darcy returned, because the Hursts had come to help Miss Bingley. Mr. Bingley’s body would be transferred back to his home where his family had purchased a vault. He would be laid to rest there.

  Elizabeth said that they should go to pay their respects, but Darcy said it was unlikely they would be well received because they were leaving as soon as possible.

  The burials for the lost members of the Bennet family had been planned now. They would be laid to rest the following day. Mr. Darcy said that he would attend the burials with Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Philips, if they wished him to do so. He would be happy to pay his respects.

  Elizabeth shot up from the chair where she was sitting. “I think it’s wretched that we can’t go. I’m not too delicate to see them lowered into the ground. Maybe some women are, but I am not. I wager none of us are.” She looked at Jane for support.

  But Jane only looked away. “It is the way things are done.”

  “I agree with you,” said Mr. Darcy. “When my grandfather died, I was just a small boy, and my grandmother was so angry as to not be allowed to accompany them to the burial. I remember how she cried. She had known him best. She should see his body laid to rest, she said. I think her reasoning was sound.”

  Elizabeth was surprised. She had not expected that from Mr. Darcy. But she nodded at him. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” She sat back down. “Of course, I shall stay home as propriety dictates.” She folded her hands into her lap.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The day of the burial, it was gray, threatening rain that never came. The sisters sat in the sitting room, now empty of bodies, and they said nothing. Mrs. Gardiner sat with them as well.

  Elizabeth stared out the window, and it all seemed unreal now.

  When the bodies had been here, it had been one thing. She could come and see them and she could convince herself it had happened. But now, with them gone, she could not help but feel as though everyone had gone on some long trip and left her and her sisters behind. They would come home in a fortnight, and Mary would attempt to play some awful piece on the piano and Kitty would be angry with Lydia for wearing her best bonnet and her mother would tell them all that she wished that Jane had been there, because there was a handsome, rich man who would have fallen in love with Jane’s beautiful face right away and swept her off her feet.

  But none of that was to happen. Elizabeth knew that deep down. She understood it. But she couldn’t feel it.

  Lord, how long would it all take for her accept this new reality?

  In some way, she was already changed. In other ways, she thought she would never be able to believe it, any of it. It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t. Not her father. Not her mother and sisters. No. No. No.

  She could have
sworn she was cried out, and that there were no tears left, but she began to cry softly, staring into the gray outdoors. The trees had come out in buds, and they seemed to mock her with their new life when so much life had been extinguished in her home.

  But the tears passed sooner than she would have liked. Wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, she turned back to the other women in the room.

  Jane was sitting in a chair with her head bowed.

  Mrs. Gardiner had stood up. She was fussing with the window curtain, even though Elizabeth thought it looked fine.

  Lydia sat alone on the couch, looking despondent. She saw Elizabeth watching her, and she suddenly burst into bright, bold sobs.

  Elizabeth went to her right away, sitting down next to her on the couch.

  Lydia threw her face into Elizabeth’s lap and she sobbed and sobbed. Elizabeth hadn’t heard her sister cry like this since she was a small girl, when tears came easily and the heart broke daily.

  Elizabeth stroked Lydia’s hair and let her cry.

  And the day passed on, gray and long and empty.

  * * *

  That evening, there was a meal in the dining room, which there had not been in days. Food had been set out, Elizabeth knew that, and she had even eaten some of it. But nothing formal had been put together. It was as if the world was coming back to normal after a stretch of irregularity, and Elizabeth wasn’t sure that she liked it. If the world went back to normal, that would mean that all of it really was real, and though she knew that it was, some part of her still wanted the excuse to be in denial.

  Dinner was not lavish. It was a serviceable meal put together by their one remaining servant and the servants from Netherfield. Elizabeth did not know who had told them to do it, but when she saw the way the servants looked at Mr. Darcy, she realized it must have been him. It was yet another sign that he had been taking care of things for her while she was in the throes of grief, and she did feel grateful to him.

  She could not love him, she did not think. He was not the sort of man that she had ever imagined being for her. But she did not care about love anymore. It all seemed ridiculous, like some sort of childish game she had been playing, worrying about whether or not she loved her husband. She thought of what Jane had said about Mr. Bingley, and she agreed. There were things that mattered in life, but they were family and loyalty and those sorts of ties. She could see that now, in the face of grief. Everything ancillary had been burned away to leave only what was important.

  Mr. Darcy was a proud man, but he was kind. He had been good to her, and she was not blind to that. If he thought they were engaged, she would allow him to think so. If he decided that she was too much work, or that he had fallen for Caroline Bingley, then she would allow that as well. She would even be a bit relieved. Perhaps a bit disappointed too, but they would be dueling feelings in equal measure, and that would be bearable.

  Thus decided, she felt a peace descend over her, even though her future was still uncertain.

  After dinner, she and the ladies retired to the sitting room to talk while Mr. Darcy and Mr. Gardiner stayed in the dining room for port.

  Mrs. Gardiner asked if they had heard anything from Mr. Collins about when he planned to take possession of the estate.

  They had not. Indeed, it seemed odd that he had not come to pay his respects to their father, but they supposed that he stayed away, like many others, out of fear of contracting the illness, and they could not fault him for that.

  They supposed they would have some time yet before he came to collect what was his by right. He might very well offer for them to stay in the house.

  But one by one, all of the sisters expressed that they should not choose to do so if they had another option.

  “And, of course, you do have another option,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Two, in fact, if I heard Mrs. Philips correctly. You may stay with either of us. Or you may split yourselves up if you have a preference. We will be amenable to any of it. And don’t feel as if you must decide straight away.” She turned to Elizabeth. “Your Mr. Darcy? He has been quite attentive. What a generous man he is.”

  “Indeed,” said Elizabeth. “We could not have managed without him.”

  “Is there a special reason he is here?” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Are you engaged to him?”

  “Truly,” said Elizabeth, “I do not quite know.” But then she saw movement out of her eye, and Mr. Darcy and Mr. Philips were coming into the sitting room. Elizabeth blushed, wondering how much Mr. Darcy had heard.

  There was conversation for some time, and then Mrs. Gardiner offered to play a few somber songs on the pianoforte.

  Elizabeth tried to concentrate on the music, but she kept looking up to see Mr. Darcy’s dark eyes on her, and it made her feel strangely warm all over.

  * * *

  The next morning, it dawned bright and sunny. Elizabeth went outside to walk after breakfast. Any other time, it would have been normal for her to spend time out in the bright sunshine. She remembered that she and her sisters would often walk to Meryton to see the regiment. But the officers were gone now. They had been scheduled to leave for Brighton anyway, but not until May. At the first signs of the sickness, though, they had all packed up and left.

  She had no desire to walk so far, at any rate. She walked in the fields behind their house. She walked to a small brook that ran through the grass, where the water skipped over smooth stones and frothed white. Its babbling was soothing. She gazed into it, and her mind was empty, mercifully empty, for the first time in what felt like eternities.

  She looked up to see someone else walking in the fields, and she realized it was Mr. Darcy.

  He saw her and looked startled. Then he changed his course to come and see her. There was a small footbridge over the brook. He crossed it and then made his way closer.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good morning,” he said. “I have been to Netherfield. There are things I had promised I would see to. Mr. Hurst asked it of me.”

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth. “Well, that is good of you to help out that way.”

  “Mr. Bingley’s family had a great many things to attend to,” said Darcy. “And he was a close friend.”

  “I am sorry for your loss,” she said.

  He bowed his head. “Thank you, though it pales in comparison to what you have gone through.”

  She did not know what to say to that.

  They were quiet for some time.

  “It is beautiful today,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said. “Very beautiful.”

  More silence.

  Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “The sun is, um, quite… beautiful.”

  She would have smiled at that if she remembered how to do so. True, she had laughed with Jane, but that had been in the dark. Laughing in the sunlight seemed impossible.

  “Well,” said Mr. Darcy. “I have disturbed your reverie. Perhaps I shall…” He gestured as if to take his leave.

  “Wait, sir,” she said. “I do wonder if we have things to speak of.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Do we?”

  “Well…” She squared her shoulders. “Perhaps not. Perhaps you have made certain assumptions, and if so, then I shall not say otherwise. But since there has been no true agreement between us, then you are still free, and if you wish to exercise that freedom, then I shall not say otherwise to that either.”

  He furrowed his brow. “I am not sure I am following you, madam.”

  “Oh,” she said, and she twisted her hands together. “Well… that is…” How could she bring it all up more specifically? “Perhaps it as all for the best, anyway.” If he wanted out of the possible engagement, then it was possibly best never to speak of it again. “I do suppose that when you saw Miss Bingley, you may have had second thoughts.”

  “Second thoughts about what?” He looked thoroughly confused.

  She blushed. “Nothing. Never mind. You mustn’t mind a thing I have said. I do not even know myself of what
I speak.”

  “You do not?” He regarded her. “Are you attempting to speak of the proposal I made to you, the one that was interrupted by your terrible news?”

  “I am,” she said. “But if you do not wish to speak of it, we do not need to.”

  “I had thought it not wise to bring it back up,” he said. “In any case, you are in mourning now. There is nothing barring a woman in mourning from getting married, of course, but I would not ask it of you.”

  “You do still wish to marry me, then?”

  “Would I be here doing the things I am doing if I did not?”

  “Well, you are also at Netherfield,” she said. “You have also assisted Miss Bingley. And I did seem to notice something perhaps between the two of you.”

  “No,” he said. “What you may have seen was utterly on her side.”

  “Ah,” said Elizabeth.

  And it was quiet again.

  Darcy scuffed his foot against the grass. He looked back at the house and then at Elizabeth.

  “So,” she said, “you are saying that proposal still stands?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Well, then, I accept,” she said.

  “Of course,” he said, inclining his head.

  Yes, he had assumed that she was his fiancee, hadn’t he? He hadn’t thought there was any possible chance she would refuse. She had an urge to take it back and tell him she didn’t need him or his arrogance after all. But before she could even think of acting on it, the desire left her. It would take such effort to muster that kind of outrage. She didn’t have it in her.

  Instead, she clasped her hands together. “I would ask, though, if possible, if the marriage could wait until I was out of mourning. It will be a full six months to mourn my parents.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “You must take as much time as you need.”

  * * *

  Darcy wasn’t sure how he felt to have his proposal formally accepted.

  Shamefully, he thought he felt a little disappointed. He could not rescind his offer, of course. An honorable man would never do such a thing. And he had already put so much on the line for Elizabeth, coming all the way out to this place of sickness and risking his life. It was the sort of thing that a man did for his fiancee.