Chances Come

by Ney Mitch

  “Yes, you did. You just have forgotten it.”

  “Sirs, what goes on here?”

  This interruption was caused by my uncle, who had emerged from the house.

  “Elizabeth?” Uncle Gardiner voiced. “Are you alright?”

  “Uncle.” With relief, I went to him. “It is time that Mr. Wickham left, for he has already delivered his message to me. Is that not so, Mr. Wickham?”

  “I—” Mr. Wickham began, but Mr. Darcy cut him off.

  “Not until I make my point quite clear,” Mr. Darcy stated, brooking no refusal. Mr. Darcy took a threatening step toward Mr. Wickham. “George, you have treated me and my family in an abominable manner, you have hurt people I love, and now you have greatly imposed yourself upon Miss Elizabeth. Too long I have not retaliated for your continual misconduct. You will leave Miss Elizabeth alone, and no more will you come near the people that I love. Or I will call you out, as I am a gentleman, and I will demand satisfaction of you in a duel.”

  “Can you not see, I have changed?” Wickham responded, pleadingly.

  “You have never shown it! And your behavior now displays that of a man who is narcissistic in his love. It is a vain thing. A cruel thing. And I shall not let Miss Elizabeth be on the receiving side of it.”

  “Mr. Darcy has spoken quite right,” my uncle supported. “My niece clearly does not want your company, Mr. Wickham. Therefore, it is best for you to leave my home, or be forcibly removed from it. What say you, sir? Because, in this moment, my esteem in you has been surely shaken.”

  Mr. Wickham took one last look at me.

  “Mr. Wickham,” I pleaded, “please…”

  “Well,” Mr. Wickham declared, his voice shaken, “you have broken my heart. I hope that you know that.”

  “Do not have an innocent woman feel guilty, George,” Darcy stated. “Leave, or I will call you out.”

  Mr. Wickham turned and left immediately.

  Chapter 2

  Rescued

  Wickham was gone!

  And yet despite myself, there was a great weight upon my shoulders. Everything felt as if it was eclipsing me.

  I sank into the chair I had been sitting in before all of this happened and folded my arms over my body, overcome.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy gasped, leaning down, and holding my arms. “Are you unwell?”

  “As right as someone can be when they felt as if every part of their soul was overcome and pushed around,” I voiced, my mind undone. “I hate everything right now, and I cannot define it.”

  “Lizzy,” my Uncle Gardiner began, racing up to me.

  “Mr. Gardiner,” Mr. Darcy stated. “I have seen this behavior before. Would you be able to get a glass of wine for your niece? And then send her aunt out here to assist her?”

  “Yes, of course,” my uncle responded, greatly out of his element. “I shall return shortly.”

  In the brief moment that we were alone, I was able to look up at Mr. Darcy.

  “You know what I am feeling?” I asked weakly.

  “Yes. It was how my sister was when Wickham had left her.”

  When seeing his face, so very much up close, I felt so very undone. For some reason, the first emotion that rang out in my heart was shame. Ever present shame that ran over and around my composure utterly overwhelmed me. All felt bleak for the moment, and there was no quiet within the beatings of my heart.

  “You must despise me now,” I observed.

  “Let’s talk no more of that at present,” he informed me.

  “No,” I refuted. “I wish to talk about it. I wish to say many things, and you will not let decorum keep me from it now.”

  He looked deeply into my eyes. For a second, we were locked in each other’s gazes.

  “I do not despise you,” he rushed out. “I never have.”

  I pulled my gaze away. “I deserved it.”

  “Truly, we do not have to speak of this now.”

  “And you must stop telling me that things, which are important to talk about, must never be spoken of.”

  “It is not that. It is simply that your aunt is coming out to see us now.”

  And for certain, Aunt Gardiner had emerged from the house and had come to assist me.

  “Lizzy,” she exclaimed, crouching down beside me, taking my arms, and helping me rise.

  “She is suffering from shock,” Mr. Darcy informed her. “Mr. Wickham did not take her rejection well.”

  “Oh, my dear.”

  As she assisted me, Mr. Darcy relinquished his hold on me, and she helped me inside the house. As she did so, I turned and looked at Mr. Darcy, who had been looking forlorn as he followed us.

  Once going inside, he decided to make his excuses immediately.

  “You are leaving?” I blurted out.

  When seeing me so unsettled by this, he was aghast.

  “I thought that you would have wished for me to leave you at this time,” he remarked.

  “Elizabeth, it is best for him to do so,” Aunt Gardiner said as a servant entered and handed me a glass of wine.

  “Why is it best for him to do so?” I observed. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Lizzy, you have just been greatly imposed upon,” Uncle Gardiner observed. “Truly, you are not well at this time.”

  “But if Mr. Darcy leaves, then he shall never return,” I augmented.

  “Lizzy, what do you mean?” Aunt Gardiner asked.

  “Yes, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy stated, “whatever do you mean by it?”

  “I merely wish to imply,” I gathered, “that seeing me in this way might be unpleasant for you. As such, returning might cause you pain.”

  Mr. Darcy took a step toward me and his eyes shined slightly against the candlelight that was reflected into them.

  “I merely leave to give you time to recover from the shock of what you experienced. But I shall never leave this place, with you having any doubt of my returning tomorrow.”

  “You promise that you shall?” I asked.

  “Yes, I shall.”

  Mr. Darcy bowed and then left.

  After his departure, Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had not much time alone with me. For, soon after Darcy’s departure, Jane had returned, having taken a walk with the Gardiner’s children, to the park. When she returned, I was sent to my room, where my Aunt Gardiner would secretly apprise her of the news.

  While being alone, I removed my gown, put on a nightdress, and slipped into bed. For truly, I did not go downstairs for the rest of the day.

  Mr. Wickham had proposed!

  And Mr. Darcy had come to visit at that particular moment. Now that I was given the time to reflect and consider, it implied that he was not at all scandalized at me sending him the letter. His coming was therefore him taking ahold of something that other narrow-minded souls would hold in contempt: he had taken initiative. For, soon after my arrival, he had sought me out.

  Feeling all the comforts of not being judged, mingled with all the happiness in his assisting me, my composure returned, and my nerves became less rattled.

  Faith! Though my spirit was still greatly disturbed by Wickham’s disastrous proposal and his inability to accept my rejection, the shock was fading. Peace and solitude were truly my aid in this particular circumstance, and slowly my confidence had returned to the proper place that it had originally been.

  It is quite perplexing how the soul can recover from such overwhelming circumstances. For something so terrifying to be endured, and then to look in the mirror and see oneself afterwards, should invoke passions and emotions that it takes a long time to recover from. Yet, that was not so now.

  I had undergone a shock.

  My disposition was affected.

  And now, I was already recovering from it and willfully choosing to move on from the moment as well as allowing the moment to move on from me.

  I suppose that was what such minor emotional lacerations feel like after losing a parent; everything else does not affect you f
or a great length in time.

  Yet, I still felt perverse in some form and manner. All felt as if it had every right to weigh upon me heavily and cause disorientation. In truth, I felt wrong for not feeling wronged.

  But the silence in which I was given to myself did not last long, in the best sense. In a brief amount of time since I retired to my room, I heard Jane’s familiar sounds as she came up the steps.

  Between the rise of her footsteps and the fall of her footfalls, I wondered how I was going to approach this discussion. What could I say and how could I say anything that would not overwhelm her gentle disposition?

  Yet, when she entered, her expression grief-stricken, all planned dialogue on my part had quite fallen to the wayside and I gave way to impulse and instinct. I just decided to open my arms to her and tell her all that I was feeling, be it correct or perverse.

  “Oh, Lizzy, how you must have suffered!” she cried after closing the door behind herself. Racing toward me, she collapsed on the bed and folded her arms around me as I fell into her embrace.

  “Oh, Jane, I wish that you had been there,” I sighed, “it was horrible.”

  “Yes, I am sure that it was. Did Wickham harm you in any way?”

  “Just my pride,” I said, “and that was misplaced to begin with. Therefore, I am already on the mend.”

  “Lizzy, surely, you cannot be. You are frightened now, perhaps?”

  “Indeed, I cannot begin to explain it, but I am neither unsettled, nor in agony. My spirit is moved and a little askew, but I am not afraid. I do not know how to explain it, for I was overcome during the incident, but now I am recovering.”

  “I am not surprised,” she observed, “for you always were of the strong sort. And perhaps it is best to recover at this time.”

  “Yes, for I suppose that there is nothing better than to be taken over by sense rather than sensibility. But I would prefer sensibility, to be strangely honest. For, I feel like being driven mad by my passions shows a saner way of being. It not affecting me anymore gives an indication that I am cold inside.”

  “Think not in that way. And if it helps, then you do not have to think of how you are feeling now, at all. You can always restrict the conversation to how you felt at the time. How did it all feel when it occurred? Or is that too painful to discuss?”

  “That is the other frightening thing. I am not afraid of discussing that either. I cannot help wondering why, but so it is. And did our aunt tell you that Mr. Darcy was the one who came to my rescue?”

  Jane’s eyes widened at this.

  “What?”

  “Yes, he did. And he was the one who ultimately drove Wickham away.”

  “Forgive me, but please tell me what happened. Now that I see that you are not scared, I am unashamed to ask how everything unfolded. Start from the beginning, if that is your pleasure.”

  “It is my pleasure very much.”

  I told her everything, from when Wickham had arrived to when Mr. Darcy had left.

  When I had finished, Jane was amazed.

  “And to think!” she gasped, “that it was Mr. Darcy, of all people!”

  “When considering my recent history with him, it is not so shocking.”

  “Is it not?”

  “Yes. Jane, I know that you were not there to see it, but while we were at Rosings Park, there was a change in our relationship. We learned to tolerate each other. And perhaps tolerate is not even a strong enough word. But rather, we learned to understand the other, accept the other, and possibly enjoy each other’s company. I do think that he and I became friends.”

  “Did you? Well, Lizzy, if it be so, then I am glad. For you often heard me wish that Mr. Darcy would improve upon closer acquaintance.”

  “You were correct. I merely had to offer him a stronger olive branch.”

  “You were the one to attempt peace first? Well, I am really quite proud of you now.”

  “I wish that I could say that my actions were sparked from my own wisdom, but they were not. With our father being gone, I find myself still affected. It helps me to remember that we do not have all the time in the world. As such, what was the point of me wasting so much time in being at odds with a man when there could be peace between us?”

  “Our father would be proud then.”

  “I do not know about pride, but perhaps he might feel the slightest bit amused. In the circumstance, it would add a twinkle to his eyes, so at least I have that in my favor.” As we sat there, I had a revelation and my eyes opened even wider than before. “This is too foolish. Here I was, proposed to by a past favorite of mine, the proposal was disastrous and unwanted, and all that I can think about is Mr. Darcy and his lasting impression of me. My priorities are not resting in their proper place at all!”

  “Perhaps they are, and they ought to be listened to. Lizzy, if you are thinking so little of Wickham’s proclamations of love that you are already forgetting about them and thinking of someone else, then that means you never fully loved him at all. And that is the surprising thing about this. Lizzy, I thought you held a deep affection for Mr. Wickham.”

  “And the fault, therein, lies with my own vanity being affected and showing more affection than I felt rather than less. Jane, I never loved Mr. Wickham. I had a deep affection for him, and perhaps adoration, but I was never in love with him. At all. There were even times where I wondered if my heart was something that was not likely to be touched. Either way, he singled me out and flattered me. This stirred my vanity, I felt the compliment of his attentions and therefore, I allowed it to make me appear as romantically partial to him. He was handsome and fascinating, but I never developed the sense that he would ever have any sincere designs on me. Since I made this baseless assumption, I find security in thinking our relationship was a simple and impartial one. Yet, I was wrong. It led to me displaying sentiments to him that were larger than what I felt, and for him to be given encouragement, therefore. Jane, I was flattered by him and struck by his charms. And yet, that was it. I was never in love with him. Yet, after what Mr. Darcy told me about Wickham, there was no chance of me even liking him again.”

  “What did Mr. Darcy tell you about him?”

  “Jane, prepare yourself, for this news will shock you. But what I tell you must be done in the strictest of confidence. You can tell no one, for Mr. Darcy never gave me license to make this news public. Jane, promise that you shall tell no one.”

  “I promise.”

  Thus, I began to tell her the history of Mr. Wickham at Pemberly.

  When I was done telling her, Jane was shocked, and her delicacy made it hard to reconcile the truth of Mr. Wickham to the image that he presented to us all, initially.

  “Unbelievable!” she gasped. “For Mr. Wickham to have truly been that wild and wanton. I can scarce believe it!”

  “So, you do blame me for speaking so warmly of Wickham?” I asked, still embarrassed over the past affection that I had for him.

  “Blame you? Oh no. How could you have known about his vicious character? If indeed he was so very bad. But I cannot imagine Mr. Darcy creating such a history and involving his own sister too. No, it must be all true. Unless there has been some dreadful mistake, where interested parties slandered both men against each other, and therefore, mistakes and confusion has occurred that led to discourse between both men.”

  “No, Jane,” I refuted, “we cannot make heroes of them both. That will not do, especially since one just tried to force his affections upon me.”

  “Of course! How foolish of me! Yes, you are right.”

  “There is only enough room to make for one good sort of man. And, for my part, I am inclined to believe that it is all Mr. Darcy’s.”

  “Yes, it would be. Poor Mr. Darcy! And for Mr. Wickham to be such a man. Truly, it is frightening to the deceptions that we can come across in life. For there is such an expression of goodness in his countenance.”

  “Yes. For between him and Mr. Darcy, one has all the goodness, and the other all t
he appearance of it.”

  We were interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Jane and Lizzy,” Hyacinth called. Hyacinth was our aunt and uncle’s eldest daughter. “It is time for supper and mother and father wished to know if you are dining downstairs with us or are eating in your room.”

  “I shall eat in my room,” I called, “yet, Jane shall eat with you all.”

  “You do not need my company?” Jane asked.

  “I need more time to sort out my feelings. When given the time, we can discuss my findings when you have finished your dinner.”

  “Very well.”

  Jane went to the door, placed her hand on the knob, but she halted.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

  “Nothing so very serious,” she observed, getting a faraway look in her eye, “but I wish that I had been there when Wickham had tried to press his affection on you.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to believe that I would have done something. Or at the very least, I would like to believe that I would have. Also, with you being deceived by Wickham, I cannot help but connect it with my previous experience in being deceived by Caroline Bingley. I cannot help but see how my foolishness in that score might have led to you learning from my poor example.”

  “My blindness toward Wickham is not your fault.”

  “Perhaps, it is not. Or perhaps it is. We may never find out. Either way, between me not being there now, and me not protecting you from the deceptions in this world… I feel as if I have not been the best older sister to you.”

  “Do not say that, Jane!”

  “No, just let me feel this now,” she argued, “I just need to confront this side of myself. By so doing, I may overcome it. Now, let us speak no more of this.”

  And with that, she was gone, closing the door behind her.

  I thought to go after her, but I theorized that perhaps, it would be best to let her go. She had a revelation, and while it was perhaps too hard of a revelation for her to have about herself, maybe she needed to have it. Yes, I was correct, and it was not her fault. Yet, I believe that it was proper for her to feel such deep inner disquiet, because her confusion came from a place of love.