Jane enfolded her sister in her arms, pulling her close. Surrendering to Jane’s caring warmth, Elizabeth allowed herself to cry.
Chapter Twenty
Life at Longbourn quickly returned to normal. Everyone in the neighborhood came to visit the Bennets to marvel at the daughter who had “returned from the dead,” and Elizabeth was compelled to recount her story time and again. She was touched to learn how many people were genuinely joyful at her return. The tale was even written up in a London paper, although the article got most of the details wrong and made no mention of Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth’s father took her into his study the day after her arrival and demanded a fuller account of her travels. She shared many details, but she did not tell him about believing herself to be Mr. Darcy’s wife or sharing his bed. Her father was quite troubled enough at understanding they had traveled together unchaperoned and expressed concern about Elizabeth’s reputation should that part of the story become widely known. However, he did not suggest that they seek an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy. Perhaps he believed she still disliked the man and would not care to marry him.
Elizabeth said as little as possible to her mother about Mr. Darcy; fortunately, Mrs. Bennet was too preoccupied with her family’s fame to recognize the marital opportunities afforded by her daughter’s misfortunes.
If Elizabeth became a little quieter after her return from France, few noticed, save Jane and her father, and they ascribed it to the demands of recovering from the traumatic experience. However, Elizabeth found that her thoughts were not occupied with France or her experiences there; instead they returned again and again to Mr. Darcy.
In the midst of needlework in the drawing room, she would suddenly muse about what he was doing at that moment. Was he thinking of her? Had he changed his mind about her? Or she would be walking along a lane and realize that she was imagining what it would be like to show the place to Mr. Darcy. Would she ever have such an opportunity?
Mr. Bingley had been in London on business, but he arrived at Longbourn a few weeks later, very happy to learn of her return. It was the work of mere days before he finally proposed to Jane, an offer he would have made earlier if the family had not been in mourning. Jane graciously accepted, and the family enjoyed a new source of happiness. Elizabeth, for her part, was pleased to share some of the family’s attention with her sister.
Still, the happy event provoked an unanticipated sense of melancholy in Elizabeth. The news of her sister’s engagement—presented at dinner—had been neither unexpected nor unwelcome, and yet Elizabeth could not escape a persistent sense of sadness.
After dinner she took a stroll in Longbourn’s garden. In the early September weather, everything was yet very green, but Elizabeth found herself unable to enjoy the beauty. As she sat on a stone bench, she found her thoughts turning yet again to Mr. Darcy.
What was he doing at that moment? Perhaps he was dancing at a ball or entertaining guests at a dinner party. He might be enjoying the attentions of a woman who likely was prettier—and surely wealthier—than Elizabeth. What if her caution caused him to lose interest? He might decide he did not want a wife who was so inconstant.
Such thoughts made her eyes burn, and she gritted her teeth. I will not weep over this!
The slip of paper was never far from her mind; she had carefully preserved it in her reticule, although she had no intention of employing it. He had declared his feelings to be immutable, but how could he be sure? On his way home to Pemberley, he might have encountered a woman who completely erased Elizabeth from his mind.
Simply picturing such an event cut into Elizabeth like a knife.
The sound of gravel crunching caught her attention. Jane approached cautiously, as if stalking a wild animal that might bolt. Elizabeth was tempted to laugh; surely she did not appear quite so nervous.
Jane extended her own handkerchief to Elizabeth as she took a place beside her on the bench. Elizabeth took it gratefully and wiped her eyes. No tears had escaped down her cheeks, but her eyes were brimming.
“I would not have accepted Mr. Bingley’s offer if I thought it would cause you pain, Lizzy,” Jane said softly.
“Your engagement does not cause me pain—quite the opposite. I am very pleased you are marrying him, and I wish you happy.”
“So these are tears of joy?” Jane teased gently.
“No.” Elizabeth breathed out a laugh. “I…do not know precisely why I am sad. You would do best to ignore me.”
“Do you miss Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes, of course. I do not believe I realized how much I missed him until I saw you with Mr. Bingley. You are so happy together!” Stupidly her voice broke over this declaration.
“I can understand why that would be distressing,” Jane said with mock solemnity.
Elizabeth could not prevent a laugh from escaping. “How did you know you are in love with Mr. Bingley?” she asked.
Her sister bit her lip, staring at the shrubbery on the other side of the path. “Do you remember when we viewed the stars on the roof of Uncle Gardiner’s house? He told us how we could determine which was the Polar Star because it was brighter than all the other stars?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth responded cautiously.
“At first I did not understand because all the stars seemed so bright and beautiful, but after a minute I could see that one of them was indeed the brightest. That is how I feel about Charles. There are many handsome men. Many well-spoken, gentlemanly men. But when I look at Charles, he shines so much more brightly than all the others.”
Elizabeth felt as if someone were shining a bright star directly into her eyes. “Ohhhh.”
Jane’s eyes were fixed on the shrubbery, but no doubt she was imagining her beloved. Finally, her sister brought her focus back to Elizabeth. “Do you love Mr. Darcy?”
“I do not know.”
“Does he shine more brightly than all the other men you know?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said slowly. “He does. He certainly does. But can I trust that feeling? What if it is simply the result of gratitude or habit?”
Jane shrugged. “That is a risk. Perhaps you ought not to attempt it.”
Elizabeth’s hands tightened spasmodically, crushing Jane’s handkerchief into a little ball. “No, you are wrong! I ought to attempt it!”
One side of Jane’s mouth curved up in a smile, and Elizabeth understood that she had been tricked.
“Clever Jane,” she laughed. “Sometimes you know me better than I know myself.”
Jane took one of Elizabeth’s hands and squeezed it affectionately. “You should visit Pemberley and speak with him.”
“What will I say?”
“Lizzy, when are you ever at a loss for words? You will know when you are there.”
***
“William!”
Darcy started guiltily at the sound of his name. “Hmm?” He turned to his sister.
“You have not eaten any of your dinner!”
He glanced down at his plate; in truth he had forgotten they were eating a meal. “That is not so, Georgiana. I ate a…” He searched the plate for an empty spot. “I had a piece of potato…I believe.”
Georgiana rolled her eyes. “I do not know why you bother to come down to dinner. You only pick at your food and stare out of the window.”
I am the worst brother who ever lived. “Dearest, I apologize. Was there something you wished to discuss?”
“I was discussing it. You were not attending to my words,” she said tartly.
“I am sorry. What were you saying? Something about the letter from Adele?” Since returning from France, Darcy had sought a way to bring Adele and her family safely to England and away from the dangers in Paris.
Georgiana made a sour face. “I was describing my plans to elope with Billy, the gardener’s son.”
A moment of panic shot through Darcy before he realized that his sister was joking. “The gardener’s son is named Robert.”
His sis
ter sat up straighter in her chair and laid down her fork. “You must simply go and retrieve her.”
“Adele?”
She rolled her eyes. “No! Adele will be here soon, I am certain. I speak of the woman who has occupied all of your thoughts.”
Darcy dropped his gaze to the table. Apparently his melancholy had been more noticeable than he believed.
“You ran off to France to avenge her death and discovered she is alive. What I do not understand is why you did not just bring her to Pemberley.”
Darcy slumped in his chair. “She would not have me, Georgiana.”
“She would not have you?” His sister’s tone was reassuringly incredulous.
“It is understandable; I lied to her. She has cause to be unhappy with me.”
“Do you love her?”
“This is not an appropriate subject to discuss with my sister.”
“Good! You do.” Georgiana gave him a sunny smile. “You know where she lives?”
“Of course, but—”
“You have granted her enough time to think. You should ride to her home tomorrow and renew your offer of marriage.”
It was a tantalizing idea: ride to the door of Longbourn and sweep Elizabeth off her feet. Her mother would be excited—at least about Darcy’s fortune—and her father would begrudgingly support the idea—most likely.
“The worst that would happen is that she would say no. It might be a little embarrassing,” Georgiana said.
Indeed, but Darcy had already laid himself bare to Elizabeth. Did he have any shame left where she was concerned?
His sister shrugged philosophically. “But what is a little embarrassment compared to a lifetime of living alone?”
She was not wrong. But could Darcy really accept advice from a girl of not quite seventeen years? Should he?
Still, life at Pemberley was dull and colorless. He pushed through his days with the enthusiasm of an automaton, performing his duties with scrupulous precision and no passion. If he visited Bingley at Netherfield and happened to make a trip to Longbourn…who knows what he might find? Elizabeth might have changed her mind, or at least softened her opinion of him. Perhaps he might persuade her…
Or perhaps she might accept another man’s offer of marriage.
No, he must reach her before then!
Abruptly, he was on his feet. “I will have Bowen pack some clothes for me.”
He glanced at Georgiana for approval, but her attention had been drawn by movement outside the window. “There is a carriage in the drive.”
The dining room windows overlooked the front of the house; Darcy peered through them, noting a scruffy black carriage pulling to a stop before the entrance. “I believe it is the rig the Inn at Lambton hires out for visitors.”
“Who would be staying at the Inn and visiting us—?” Georgiana started to ask, but the room was already empty.
Darcy strode purposefully toward the front entrance, reminding himself that running would be undignified. He knew who he hoped the visitor would be, but of course, that hope was most likely in vain. It could be a friend visiting on a whim. Or a matter of business. But he had just been thinking of her… Hope propelled him into the front hall.
Jones, the butler, was opening the door.
Darcy had never seen a more beautiful sight. Her dress was rumpled and stained with mud at the hem. Her bonnet was crushed on one side where she most likely had leaned her head while sleeping. Wisps of hair curled around her face, and dark circles lurked under her eyes.
But she was at Pemberley.
“Elizabeth!” Giving her no chance to speak, Darcy crossed the hall in two strides and gathered her into his arms. The kiss was desperate and passionate, as he poured nearly four weeks’ worth of absence and frustration into it.
By the time he released her, she was even more rumpled—and quite bemused. Georgiana, Jones, two footmen, and a maid were all staring at him in wonder. It was, to be fair, uncharacteristic behavior for the master of Pemberley.
He would be mortified if she had arrived for some other purpose. To see the sights of Derbyshire, for example. Or to borrow a volume of poetry they had discussed. Darcy rubbed the back of his neck as his face heated. “Um…Elizabeth…Bennet, may I introduce my sister, Georgiana Darcy?” He gestured vaguely as the two women exchanged curtsies, his sister with a broad grin on her face.
He needed to regain control of the situation. “Er…Elizabeth…Miss Bennet, what brings you to Pemberley?”
Georgiana giggled.
Elizabeth’s eyes darted nervously about the entrance hall; it certainly was far grander than the one at Longbourn—or even Rosings. “You…ah…said…If I changed my mind…” Her eyes took note of the servants—“on a particular subject…I should tell you,” she said slowly.
Darcy ran his fingers through his hair, regarding her in bemusement. “I expected you to write to me.”
She gave him an arch smile. “Mr. Darcy, you know it would be improper for me to write to you.”
“And showing up alone on my doorstep is not improper?” he asked with a returning grin.
She fidgeted under his scrutiny. “Perhaps I…came to visit your sister.”
Georgiana giggled again.
Darcy frowned. “Did you travel post all this way alone?”
“I did.”
“Elizabeth—”
“Mr. Darcy, I found that after my recent journey through France, traveling by post through the English countryside did not seem terribly dangerous.”
The risks she had taken! “Elizabeth—” he said in a warning tone.
“Miss Bennet,” Georgiana interrupted, “surely you did not travel all this way to receive a lecture from my brother about your safety.” She gave her brother a quelling glance.
“No.” Elizabeth grinned at his sister. Already they are allied against me; I am in trouble.
“So what were you hoping would arise out of today’s visit?” Georgiana asked with a mischievous grin.
Elizabeth responded to Georgiana, but her eyes sought Darcy’s. “A few weeks ago—upon our parting—your brother promised me that if I wished it…a certain offer would be forthcoming.”
“And you wish it?” Georgiana asked.
Elizabeth’s gaze still rested on Darcy. “Yes,” she whispered.
Darcy did not hesitate; at any moment she might change her mind. He dropped to one knee before her. The servants gasped as one. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would you do me the very great honor of—”
Elizabeth did not allow him to finish. “Yes! Yes, I will marry you. Yes, I will be your wife. Yes, I will pledge myself to you forever.”
Mere words could not come close to expressing Darcy’s joy upon this occasion. The only thing he could do was sweep Elizabeth into his arms and give her a most passionate kiss.
Epilogue
“Enough kissing, Darcy; there will be time enough for that later!” Bingley’s voice held more than a hint of laughter.
Darcy pulled away from Elizabeth but did not release his grip on her shoulders. “You are a fine one to talk,” he muttered to Bingley.
Bingley blushed a furious red. “It was only the one time!” he protested. “And we believed we were alone in the garden.” He gestured to the people milling about Longbourn’s drawing room. “You, on the other hand, are kissing in plain view of everyone at your own wedding breakfast!”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I dare anyone to gainsay my right to kiss my wife after my wedding ceremony. I believe we have earned it.”
Bingley sighed. “I suppose so.” After all, the news of Elizabeth’s miraculous return from the dead and Darcy’s role in her rescue had not only given them fame in Hertfordshire but also granted them some leeway with their behavior that other couples might not enjoy. Darcy was determined to push that tolerance to its limits—not for its own sake but because he simply could not prevent himself from expressing his affection for his wife.
Elizabeth laughed. “Let us leave off for
now, William. I would like to converse with some of the guests at my own wedding breakfast. There will be time enough for kissing later,” she teased in a low voice.
These words alone were enough to stir the blood in Darcy’s veins and make him long for nighttime.
He had been right to decline Mrs. Bennet’s plea for a long engagement. He had waited long enough for his bride, and a month was all he had been willing to grant for the sake of wedding preparations. Scarcely less eager, Bingley and Jane had taken advantage of Darcy’s impatience and decided to make it a double wedding.
Thus, Jane and Elizabeth Bennet were wed to the loves of their lives within seconds of each other. Nothing could have made the sisters—or their bridegrooms—happier.
Mrs. Bennet had spent the last month in a frenzy of preparation, but now she seemed a bit overcome by the proceedings. Rather than gadding about the breakfast to chat with guests, she had collapsed into a chair and babbled tearfully about how fortunate she was that her daughters had found such fine gentlemen to marry.
Darcy surveyed the room in satisfaction, watching the people he loved most in the world enjoy each other’s company—or at least tolerate it. In one corner, Richard had been trapped by Kitty and Lydia as they vied for his attentions. He was the only man in regimentals, so naturally he drew their attention.
Darcy had learned to his satisfaction that Wickham had been cashiered out of the militia after abandoning his regiment in Brighton to escape some debts. His whereabouts remained unknown. Elizabeth had discovered that Lydia had harbored some partiality for Wickham, but Elizabeth’s untimely “death” had required the youngest Bennet daughter to return to Longbourn, undoubtedly escaping further meddling from Wickham.
Then Darcy’s eye was caught by a most welcome sight: Adele—her niece and nephew in tow—moving in his direction. They had only arrived in Hertfordshire the previous day and still showed signs of fatigue from their journey. Adele and Marie were clearly delighted to be in England, and even Bernard had lost some of his sour demeanor when he learned his aunt might permit him to join the English army. He felt destined to be a soldier, but Adele had forbidden him to fight for Napoleon.
The Unforgettable Mr. Darcy Page 22