by Ney Mitch
“His charm is different. He is not as handsome as Mr. Bingley, and yet, I find that I do not care. I do not care at all. For there is something about his nature which makes him like the rocks beneath the earth. He has a strong foundation. But what makes it all the more confusing is my own character. With Bingley, I feel such a joy in his company, and I admire that he enjoys my shyness. Yet, with the Colonel, I am not shy at all. I am different around him, somehow. Both men bring out a different side of me, and I am wondering which side of me should be presented.”
I truly felt sympathy for her situation. “I can see your confusion there.”
“But there is another matter. Colonel Fitzwilliam has a profession, and he needs to marry an heiress to maintain his life. I am not an heiress, so I am not the best candidate for a wife. I can bring him nothing.”
“You can bring him love.”
“Yes, but he might grow to care more for money later. With Mr. Bingley, I know that he will be able to provide for us well, but he did abandon me as a prospect long ago. Also, what happens if my partiality for him is the results of a first love, and so I am blinded in that corner? He gave me up once. Therefore, what is to say that he will not do so again? And how can I choose one when they are both such remarkable men? I cannot hurt either one, Lizzy. I would rather die first.”
She began to shake, so I held her as she let her emotion fall out of her body and into the air.
Whenever one cannot possibly give out the correct advice, it is never a good feeling.
Jane eventually wished for time alone, so it was time for me to retreat and go back to my room, where I could write a letter to our mother.
As I did so, I saw Georgiana come up the stairs, bearing letters.
“Miss Elizabeth,” she spoke, still with an air of merriment about her that was the result of the previous night’s festivities. “I come bearing missives.”
“Good news or bad, we now shall see,” I said as she handed me two letters. “Ah, from Mama and Charlotte Lucas. She is a friend of mine.”
“Is she not also the woman who is now my cousin’s companion, and the widow of my aunt’s late parson, Reverend Collins?”
“Yes, the one and the same.” Lowering the letters, I looked ahead, in marvel. “You know, Miss Darcy, now that I come to think on it, our lives are connected in such strange ways. Do you not think so?”
“I have noticed. My aunt has written to my brother, and she says that Charlotte is making an excellent companion for Anne, so your friend must be a charming woman. Or a patient one, to be able to endure the lifestyle of Rosings Park.”
“My friend is not like us,” I said, “she only asks for a comfortable home and security. We are different, and I confess that we desire something else entirely. We are the adventurous sort and are like water. My friend is like the earth.”
I began to open my letter, but then I saw Georgiana looking warily at me from out of the corner of my eye.
“I know that look,” I deduced. “You have something that you wish to ask me.”
“I do indeed. It is an impertinent question, but Miss Elizabeth, I really must ask you. Can we please have a brief discussion in the music room for a moment?”
I breathed in deeply; there shall always be something altogether intimidating about a woman who is related to the man that you are in love with. Yet, my courage returned quickly, and I concurred.
Following her into the music room, I closed the door behind us and sat down with confidence. She did not sit, but looked on me, then looked away, bashful.
“Miss Darcy, I believe that you are getting nervous,” I began, “and that is not needed. You have requested to speak to me about something, and I am willing to hear it.”
“Yes, and you are very kind to do so. However, now that we are here and it comes down to it, I am suddenly frightened and feel as if I have been presumptuous in my manner.”
“If it helps you to unfold yourself to me, then I shall tell you that I shall listen to you with no judgment whatsoever about what you have to say. I know how difficult it is to speak when the subject matter is not commonplace.”
“Thank you.” She paced back and forth for a half minute and then she looked out of the window. “Miss Elizabeth, I love my brother.”
“Yes, I know. You two have a beautiful bond.”
“Yes, and I have seen many women fall in love with him in the past. Yet, very few of them ever saw him when they looked on him… they saw all that they could gain from him. Miss Bingley is among those.”
My eyes widened at this acknowledgement. I had not the slightest notion that Georgiana would have been willing to admit such a thing to me.
“Yes,” I concurred, “she is.”
“And when I met you, I wanted to believe that you were different. Over time, I believed myself to be correct in that wish. Yet, hearing such confirmation is welcome. Therefore, I ask you, and I want the truth. Did you mean all that you said at the ball, when you were speaking with Miss Bingley?”
“She told you about our conversation?” I asked, shocked.
“No, forgive me, but I was standing against a window near you. You both did not see me, because from your angle, the curtain was in the way.”
“Ah. Yes, and that teaches me the lesson of never having such provocative conversations at a ball.”
“I did not mean to overhear.”
“No, I am not chiding you. I am only chiding my own foolishness. Yet, I had rather you heard us than a stranger. That would have been the talk of the ton.”
“Yes,” Georgiana giggled softly, and then she got bashful again.
“Miss Darcy, did any of our conversation give you pain to hear?”
“No. I did not want Miss Bingley as a sister-in-law, and I suspect that you know why.”
I gave her a gentle smile. “Yes, I do. And I daresay that very few women would prefer to have such a fate.”
“Yes. But I wish to speak with you on another matter. Did you mean what you said when you declared that you loved my brother?”
I bit my lip, feeling utterly undone. For to have her know that I spoke it made me feel unraveled and exposed, to the whole world and left without any way of concealment. I was revealed, totally and completely, and I did not know how this all was to end.
“If I was,” I gathered, “then how does that make you feel?”
“Like I said, I was worried about my brother not finding a woman that did not love him in the manner which he loved her. Fitzwilliam is very vulnerable in that way, you see. While I believed you to be artless until now, it was not until I heard you speaking with Miss Bingley that I fully became aware of all that you felt. So, you are in love with my brother?”
“Yes,” I confessed, “I am utterly in love with him.”
“How long have you been in love with him?”
“That is the perplexing thing of it all,” I admitted. “I cannot fix on the moment, the hour, or the day. My feelings had been coming on so gradually that I had not even known I had begun until I was already in the middle. It has been months since I have been in love with him, but as for the precise action that made me realize that I loved him, I cannot tell you. It just happened.”
“That is good,” she replied, reassured, “for if you love him in general, it is better than loving him for a specific reason. Loving anyone for a specific thing they do is dangerous, because people change, and so do the specifics on them. Yet, if you love them in a general manner, for who they are overall, then that is healthier.”
I blinked, surprised at her wisdom.
“That is a very wise deduction to make,” I added. “You could only know such a thing from experience.”
“When I was in love once, I loved the man for specific reasons. Those specifics turned out to be false. Afterwards, my love looked empty because the specifics that I fixed on were never real.”
“I can understand of what you speak, for I have been in such a predicament myself.”
“You have?” S
he asked, awed.
“Yes, I have. Miss Darcy, there is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Thank you.”
I did not think it right to mention Mr. Wickham’s name, for I did not believe that it was right for me to admit to knowing her history yet. Therefore, I simply continued with our discussion.
“Miss Darcy, what do you feel about my feelings for your brother? Can you see me as worthy of him? I admit, whether you do or not will not influence my own feelings. No matter what, I will always love him. Yet, I still wish to know if I have your blessing at all.”
Georgiana’s body shuddered and her expression changed.
“Miss Elizabeth, did my silence on the matter frighten you? I did not mean for it to be so!” Hastily she sat down beside me. “No, I am glad of it. You are the precise sort of woman that I would want my brother to marry,”
I laughed at her declaration.
“Miss Elizabeth, this really is the best sort of news!”
“I am happy that you approve, for I would have not been amenable to the idea of the sister of my first love to despise me so!”
She was utterly beaming. “You both shall be very happy together.”
“Well, if he does not propose, then you and I will both be very disappointed.”
“That is another thing for which I wished to speak with you about. Miss Elizabeth, my brother is a strong man, and I know that he shall propose to you one day. Yet, is there some way that you can display your feelings more towards him? I know that you do a great deal already, but—and forgive me for saying this—but find a way to spend time alone with him. This will give him the opportunity to possibly offer a proposal.” She placed her hand over her mouth. “Dear me, do I sound artful?”
I chuckled at that. “No more than my mother often does, but it is of no matter. Your logic is sound.”
We embraced, relieved that we were of the same mind.
Chapter 17
The Proposal
When I left Georgiana in the music room, for she had wished to practice, I began to make my way to my own room. However, I felt my courage rising inside me once more. It was the courage that often never left me in peace. Cold prudence was not made for my sort. For so long, the way that I made my way through life was by action, as opposed to inaction. Proactivity as opposed to reactivity. I never was meant to sit still and do nothing. Therefore, by returning to my room, what was I doing but waiting for an action that I would react to?
I had Georgiana’s blessing!
I had Jane’s and Aunt Gardiner’s encouragement.
I had Kitty’s confirmation that he loved me as well.
All that I did not have was the confession of love from the man himself. Still with the letters in my hand, I decided to act.
For could all of us truly have been wrong?
I wished for it to not be so.
All of us could not be in error.
Therefore, deciding to act, to live, and to rush to a future that I hoped would envelop me, I turned around and rushed down the steps. In doing so, I came upon a servant named James.
“James,” I requested, “can you please tell me where your master is?”
“He is in his study.”
“Thank you.”
We parted ways, and I went to the study. Once reaching the door, I raised my hand and was about to knock, but then I halted.
Surely, we had not seen the situation all wrong! But what if we had? What if Georgiana, Jane, Kitty, Aunt Gardiner, and I had translated Mr. Darcy’s actions wrong this entire time? Perhaps he was just doing everything out of general kindness. Or perhaps because of the pity he felt from us losing our father. Ah, pity! That was the one thing that I wanted no one to ever feel for me. I did not want to be pitied. I simply wanted to be loved.
Or perhaps, he did all of this out of the guilt he felt for separating Jane and Mr. Bingley.
Yet, surely, we could not all be this mistaken! And Georgiana especially. She was his sister. She knew his heart and soul better than anyone. Therefore, she, of all of us, would understand his inclinations better than anyone. She knew his heart. And she believed that he may have been willing to open that heart up to me.
It was time to believe. It was time for faith.
Balling my hand into a fist, I knocked.
“Come in!” Mr. Darcy called on the other side. I entered, to find Mr. Darcy with his clerk, Mr. Gibson.
“Mr. Darcy and Mr. Gibson, good day,” I began. “How do you both do this afternoon?”
“Quite well, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Gibson replied merrily, “quite well. I heard that you and your sisters had a delightful evening last night.”
“Very delightful! I had not danced so much in one evening in my entire life.”
“A young lady should dance as much as she can. It is a delightful activity.”
“I have often prescribed it as one of the best ways to nourish comradeship with our fellow man.”
“Quite so, quite so.”
I looked at Mr. Darcy.
And he looked at me.
“How do you do, Mr. Darcy?”
“I am quite well, Miss Bennet.”
There was something about his eyes as we stared at each other. His dark and black eyes seemed even larger than usual at this moment. I felt as if I was falling into them, and they in turn had widened up to the size of a sea and was preparing to devour me.
However, our lengthy staring at one another was broken when we both recalled that Mr. Gibson was in the room. Embarrassed, we both looked down and Mr. Gibson understood our discomfort.
“Well,” he interjected, “Mr. Darcy, if you do not mind, sir, I wish to go to the kitchens for a spot of coffee.”
“Do so, George,” Mr. Darcy replied.
Mr. Gibson left us alone, closing the door behind him.
Yes, quite alone!
Now that it came down to it, there was such heaviness in the air, and it felt as if the distance between us was short and long simultaneously. Both he and I felt the weight of our emotions, and I wondered if I would ever move from my spot.
“I come with a request,” I blurted out. “Kitty desires more paper, and humbly asks for some more.”
“More paper?”
“Yes.”
“Ah.”
Pause.
“Miss Bennet, I get the feeling that she is not simply writing letters.”
“You are correct, I believe she is not.”
“Then what is she doing with all this paper?”
“I have not the slightest notion.”
“Ah.”
Silence again.
“I will ask her,” I continued, “I promise.”
“Yes. I see.”
“Yes.”
“And I see that you have letters yourself.”
“Yes. I have not read them yet.”
“Ah.”
Silence again.
What was I doing!
I walked to the window and looked out onto the lawn. Fir trees were bright and green, healthy in the winter air. The gardens beyond were slumbering beneath the soil, waiting for spring.
“Mr. Darcy,” I began, returning to my objective. “I have to tell you something.”
“Yes?” he replied, his voice hollow and deep. “What is it?”
“Now, what I tell you, I wish for you to promise first, that you will try and not run away. What I tell you now, is not something that a woman ought to say first. Usually, she has to wait for it to be said, and then respond accordingly. Yet, you once told me that disguise of any sort was your abhorrence.”
I found myself fidgeting with the ribbon at my waist. “You told me that you despised anything else but hearing the absolute truth. I would like you to recall that philosophy of yours, and therefore, have empathy for my situation now.”
I was blathering now, but could not help myself. “I am coming to you, as a woman, who is being earnest and honest. I am coming to you, laying out my soul and my heart for I believe hearing me
speak will not make you run. I want to believe that you are stronger than that. I want to believe that you are strong enough to hear a woman admit that she is very much in love with you.”
When stealing a glance at him, I saw his face turn to stone and then he leaned forward.
“What?” he whispered.
“Mr. Darcy, are you strong enough to hear such a thing? I will not proceed until I know that you are.”
“Yes,” he responded, his voice hoarse, “I am. Please continue.”
“Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to tell you how much I adore, admire, and love you. Soon after seeing you once more at Rosings, I found myself developing a passionate attachment to you. And therefore, I shall implore you to kindly consider me, at least. Grant me permission to allow a courtship between us. Consider me. If you do not find yourself in love with me at the end of it, then I shall release you from any sense of obligation. Yet, I stand here now, asking you only for a chance to win your heart. I speak as I am, plain and simple. Will you, my most beautiful friend, consent to a courtship, and give me the chance of winning your hand?”
He simply sat there, frozen. Yet, his silence did not deter me, so I walked up to his desk.
“Come, Mr. Darcy. Will you give me no answer?”
Slowly, Mr. Darcy stood up.
“You have been in love with me for that long?” he asked, his eyes dark and fierce.
“Yes, I have.”
“Why could you not tell me before?” he asked. “All the days that I spent wondering if there would ever be more between us.”
He moved around his desk and took a few steps closer to me.
His gaze was pinned to mine. “You loved me all this time.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Miss Bennet, Elizabeth, can you not see? Can you never see that so much of my days have been spent doing everything I can to get one step closer to your heart?”
“Really?” I asked, my body beginning to melt internally.
“Yes.” His tone was ferocious and desperate. “The days and nights that I wanted to be your husband, and I gave up hope, then took it up again, and felt that if I charmed and made you happy, you could one day love me.”