by Linda Wells
Oh how I miss you! It is Friday night, and I am alone in my study. The house is silent and I can imagine your voice rising in song, floating through the hallways, filling the empty places of my soul with joy. You complete me. I will struggle through these weeks apart from you, but I will succeed because at the end I know that you will be there. Seeing you again will make this torture bearable.
I want to say so much more, but it will have to wait until I am in your blessed presence. I hope that you enjoy your visit with your friend, but is it too much to ask that you suffer and miss me, too? Just a little? I am selfish.
Please write to me. I will wait anxiously for any word and will treasure it.
With affection,
W
Elizabeth read the letter until she knew it by heart. She traced her fingers over the words. “He wishes me to call him William.” She whispered. “Yes, William, you have your wish. I miss you very much.”
DARCY STAYED in the park alone for a long time after Elizabeth’s carriage departed. He considered following it, but he knew that once started he would never stop. He would have stayed with her the entire way. He sat on a bench; the chilly March wind had no effect on his reverie. There were children running about. Boys with kites, girls with their dolls, and he wondered what it would be like to be a father. In a way, he was one already. He had been Georgiana’s guardian since she was ten years old, but he knew, as hard as he tried, he could not replace their father’s memory, nor should he. He was not much older than she at the time his mother died, and as heart wrenching as that loss was, and as horribly lonely as his life became, he was grateful his father never remarried. He could not imagine trying to give his affection to another woman who came to take his mother’s place.
He considered what Elizabeth had told him about Georgiana missing her father and how it related to Wickham. Was she trying to replace her father’s affection with the attentions that she received from him? Did Wickham know that she was lonely and would unwittingly welcome what she thought was love? Did she feel as empty as he did? Darcy realized that as much as he loved his sister, and tried to show it, his inability to allow anyone to get close prevented him from being able to display the love he felt. He was so afraid of being hurt. The loss of his mother, the odd relationship with his father, the constant betrayal of his former friend Wickham, had all taken his already shy and reticent personality and made him unable to express himself in any way.
Until now. Until Elizabeth. Now he was feeling so many things that he never allowed himself to feel before. He knew attraction, affection, desire, passion, comfort, trust, friendship, and yes, he knew it now, love. He loved her. He knew now the moment that he fell in love. It was here in this park, when he impulsively pulled her into his arms and held her. He only knew her one day, and he had fallen instantly, completely, irrevocably in love with her. It was frightening and intoxicating. Every day was a new revelation, of her, of him. Now all he could think about was winning her hand and taking her home, to Pemberley, where they belonged. He began planning his proposal. It had to be perfect, he would write it down, yes, and practice it. He wanted everything to be wonderful for her.
He finally returned home and as tempted as he was, he did not read her letter but kept it in his breast pocket, next to his heart, and spent the rest of the day buried in his neglected work. After a pleasant dinner with Georgiana, he listened to her play. It was not until he finally retired that he settled into his favourite armchair in his sitting room, a glass of wine by his side, and broke the seal of her letter.
Dear
I miss you. I know that I am still here in London, and you left me only an hour ago, and you are still only a few miles away, but I can say without hesitation that at the moment you read this, I miss you, so very much.
Everything has happened between us so quickly. It overwhelms me when I think about it so I choose not to. Instead I will think about that which gives me pleasure, and that is you. Did you know that I dream about you? I have dreamed about you for years, but now I have a face to replace that murky vision that my mind created. Who was this mystery man? He was always tall and handsome, for what hero of a novel is not? But my dream man was kind, and caring, intelligent and sharing, respectful and silly. You are all of those things, and so many more. I am thrilled to see you slowly letting down your guard and showing me the hidden parts of you. I have a feeling that nobody else knows these special private places, and I am honoured for the opportunity.
Not very long ago I spent a day contemplating life, and how unlikely it was that I would ever meet someone who could bear my impertinence and coax me to reveal my true nature. I am afraid that I have been hiding behind my wit for a long time. I recognize your mask, now you know mine. Even my dear Jane does not truly know me, but I want to share it with you. The value that I feel for your friendship and affection is inestimable. How will I survive these weeks without you now that I know you are in the world? I miss you so much and I have not yet left. I have so much that I want to say, but I know that I must wait for two long, lonely weeks. I will bear it, for my reward will be your smile when we meet again.
May God bless you,
EB
Darcy thoughtfully folded her letter. He was smiling. She knew how to make him smile with her words whether she was in the room or not. He wondered about the dream man she had imagined and wondered about all of the things she had not said. He knew that she was speaking of the man she imagined marrying and all of the qualities she hoped for, her ideal. Because they were not engaged or even declared themselves in love, she could not be more explicit and tell him the details he dearly wished to know. He could only hope that from what she inferred, he was the man who measured up to her ideal. She certainly was his.
So she wore a mask as well. He suspected as much and wondered if she was lonely, too. She rarely spoke of her mother, and now he knew her father. Her family may be large and alive, but that did not mean she was at home there. He wondered if she had despaired of ever leaving. They had much to learn of each other. She wished to share herself with him, only him. An elated smile appeared on his lips, and he felt surer than ever that she loved him too.
“WERE THERE ANY difficulties with Miss Elizabeth’s departure?” Bingley asked as he strolled with Jane through the park Sunday afternoon.
“No, the Lucas’ arrived when we expected, and they stayed just long enough to eat and load Lizzy’s trunks. I did not think of it before, but you should have been here. You could have met some more of your neighbours. Lucas Lodge is quite near to Netherfield.”
“Well, I will be there in a fortnight. I suppose that I will be meeting a great number of your neighbours very soon.”
“Oh, you will be leaving?” Jane’s brow contracted. She had not really thought about losing his company so soon.
Bingley was pleased to see her concern. “Yes, I leave for Netherfield at the same time as Darcy departs for Rosings.”
“Lizzy will be happy to see him. She was quite distraught after he left Saturday morning.”
“Distraught? What happened, if I may ask?”
“He departed, and she ran upstairs. I could hear her crying, but she would not let me in.” Jane was clearly upset. “They seem to have formed a very strong bond very quickly.” She paused, “I noticed Mr. Darcy standing here in the park, watching the carriage when they departed. He must have returned and just waited.”
“He did?” Bingley was surprised. He never would have imagined his friend doing something so romantic. “I suppose that he wanted one last glimpse of her. How do you feel about your sister and Darcy?”
“I do not know. I truly have never seen her so happy before, or so vulnerable.” She bit her lip and asked pleadingly, “He is a good man, is he not?”
Bingley looked at her earnestly. “I realize that you know very little of both of us Miss Bennet, but I swear on all that I hold dear, Mr. Darcy is a good man, and if he gives his heart to Miss Elizabeth, he does it with the utmost sincerity.”
“Thank you, sir. You words relieve my mind. Lizzy is suffering so. Our father’s reaction to her courtship is so strange, and she cannot help but be torn by it.” Jane was close to tears.
“Do you think that your father will object to anyone who wishes to court his daughters or is it just your sister?”
“I honestly never thought he would behave this way towards any of us, but his bond to Lizzy has always been very strong.” She paused, looking shyly at him as a blush rose in her cheeks. “As for the rest of us, he did mention to me that he hoped I might meet someone soon.”
Bingley smiled brilliantly at her. “Well that is an admirable sentiment; one that I hope is fulfilled for you, Miss Bennet!” He felt good enough to continue. “I enjoyed our dances together, I only regret not asking you to waltz!”
“Mr. Bingley! Such a scandalous dance!”
“Your sister seemed to enjoy it, and I distinctly remember you rushing to her side and exclaiming over her performance! Has your opinion changed?”
“That is not fair Mr. Bingley! You have caught me out!”
“Miss Bennet, I have asked to attend Miss Darcy’s next dance lessons to specifically learn the waltz, perhaps you would like to join us? I am sure that Darcy and Miss Darcy would welcome you?” He looked at her hopefully.
Deciding it was high time for her to be bold like Lizzy, Jane delighted him, “Yes, Mr. Bingley, I would like that very much.”
FORTITUDE, endurance, patience, a good imagination; all of these things are necessary to survive the exhausting droning of a Mr. Collins sermon. Elizabeth thought. This is definitely a trial; thank heaven I only have to hear him four times. Poor Charlotte! This is her Sunday for life! Elizabeth cast a sympathetic glance at her friend, who rolled her eyes at her then immediately resumed her look of reverence. Elizabeth stifled her laugh.
She looked over to where the formidable Lady Catherine sat with her daughter. Elizabeth was looking forward to meeting her and seeing just what sort of combatant she was. Mr. Darcy said that he thought she would be well matched with her. No, I must try to behave. I want this woman to like me. She then turned her attention to Miss de Bourgh. Her frailty was made more obvious by the direct comparison to her robust mother. Elizabeth wondered if the girl were truly ill, or simply cowed by her mother’s behaviour.
When the service thankfully ended, Lady Catherine made her spectacular exit, closely followed by the fawning Mr. Collins. Charlotte indicated that they should go to meet the great Lady. Elizabeth was never one to be impressed by a title, so when she rose from her curtsy, she did not hesitate to look Lady Catherine in the eye. Lady Catherine did not like the lack of servility in the bold young girl, but it intrigued her nonetheless. She issued a perfunctory invitation to tea Tuesday afternoon and with a swish of her skirts, departed.
Monday morning Elizabeth walked the groves of Rosings, wrestling with her demons. Her father’s behaviour confused and angered her. It was easier to not think about it when she was in London, when He was there. But now, alone in Kent, with nothing but her thoughts, she began to dwell on in incessantly. Why? Why had her father behaved in such a selfish, jealous manner? Had he always felt this way? Is it just because of the sudden nature of her courtship? Was he simply unprepared to see her attached and would soften with time or is their relationship irreparably damaged? She had written to her father after he left, telling him about tea with Lady Matlock, the theatre, the ball, the dinners, and she never received a reply. The letters from Longbourn were from her mother and Kitty. Jane heard from him, but no mention of William was made. Was she to be forced to choose? She wished that William was there already. She needed to talk to him. She was so emotional, and he so calm and rational. He would hear her out, and help her understand. Oh how she wished for his embrace! She wiped her tears and walked on. The next afternoon, after meeting Lady Catherine, she felt ready to write to him. She excused herself to her room, and put pen to paper.
Chapter 11
Darcy regarded the man sitting opposite him in his study Monday morning. He was about the same age as his father would be if he were still alive. Fit, with signs of good humour in the deep laugh lines around his eyes, but he now wore an expression of extreme discomfort on his face.
“I would like to thank you again for giving me your time today, Mr. Darcy.” Philip Carrington may have been nearly thirty years Darcy’s elder, but he was, nonetheless, below him in consequence.
“It is no trouble at all, sir. You must understand my great curiosity in any mention of the Bennet family.”
“Yes, I can well imagine.” He hesitated, and decided to simply plunge in. “Mr. Darcy, I will move straight to the point. What I am about to tell you is a very closely held confidence, which even my son Alex does not know. I am relying on your renowned reputation of honour to keep it that way, until I feel it is time to reveal all to him.”
“Sir, if you are asking if you can trust me, you can. Why you would wish to share something so important with a relative stranger instead of your own child is not my business, but I cannot help but be curious.” Darcy’s brow furrowed and he frowned.
“Mr. Darcy. You have a reputation of being a very private man, and as such, you have never shown your favour to any particular lady before. Your obvious attention to Miss Elizabeth Bennet has raised a great deal of speculation that there may be some attachment to this unknown young lady. You indicated a friendship with her at the ball. I realize that you were being careful about what you said in such a public forum, but am I correct in assuming that your intentions towards her are honourable?” Mr. Carrington looked anxious. “Sir, I assure you, I am not here to gain gossip to pass along the ton, and I only wish to verify the strength of your relationship, because if you are attached, you will be very interested in the story that I must tell you.”
“I am not comfortable discussing my private life with anyone, but in this case I will make an exception. You seem to want to confide a very personal secret of your own to me, so I will trust you with mine. If I hear anything of it beyond this room, I will certainly know the source.” Taking a breath he admitted, “Yes, I have entered a courtship with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and I do intend to ask her to be my wife. Do you know any reason that I should not continue this relationship?” His eyes bore into Mr. Carrington’s, and he tightly gripped the arms of his chair.
“Oh, no! I am delighted to know that you have found a woman who you feel would make you a good wife, and from what my son said about her after his dance, she will certainly challenge you with her wit and good humour, as well as her beauty, on a daily basis. No sir, I can be nothing but happy for you!” Darcy relaxed slightly. Carrington continued, “The reason that I ask about your relationship has to do with my son, and if you are to be husband to Miss Elizabeth, you need to know this, if not for your own sake, then for your friend, Mr. Bingley. You see, my son has shown great interest in Miss Jane Bennet, who is apparently not as challenging in wit as your Miss Elizabeth. He is very much attracted to both ladies, for a reason that he could not define to me.”
Darcy sat up straighter, “That is interesting, both Misses Bennet mentioned something of the same nature, they felt that they recognized something about Alex, particularly his eyes and manner of speaking, and were both very curious about him.”
Mr. Carrington sighed. “I was afraid of that.” Finally gathering himself he looked at Darcy. “Mr. Darcy. Alex is not my natural son.” Darcy’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Twenty-eight years ago, the niece of our cook was in service at the estate of the Markham family in Sussex. When she was,” he paused, “with, he looked significantly at Darcy, who nodded, “the young university friend of their son, and soon found herself with child. When the information was told to the Mistress, and the father named, she was dismissed. Neither the Markham family or the child’s father gave her a second thought. She came to her aunt for help, who in turn spoke to my wife, hoping to secure her a position in our household.” He looked down. “My wife and I had b
een married for seven years, and we were unable to have our own child. Without an heir my estate would have gone to a very distant cousin. I have no living siblings. We both desperately wished to be parents, so when Amanda suggested that we take in the girl’s child, who we knew was the issue of a gentleman, and give him or her my name, we jumped at the chance. The girl was only fifteen and did not survive the birth. The boy was healthy, and we did accept him. With no family to question us . . . we made him my heir, it was assumed that he was ours. Before the girl delivered, she signed a statement telling her story and naming the father. She was illiterate, but she trusted her aunt to read the statement and witness her mark. That statement is in the possession of my attorney.”
Mr. Carrington looked at Darcy with tired eyes. “The gift of Alex was the greatest of our lives. My wife doted on him, and I did my best to instil in him a love of the estate, and a sense of responsibility for it. He seems to display all of our values, and other than a bit of a selfish streak and a tendency to seek solitude from time to time; he bears a very great resemblance to us.”
Darcy was absorbing all of this information, to learn that his friend was illegitimate was enormous news indeed, why he even resembled his mother! Then he began piecing things together, and looking closely at Mr. Carrington, he asked, “Is Alex’s natural father Mr. Thomas Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire?”
“Yes, he is.” The two men stared at each other.
At last Darcy broke the silence. “It is early in the day, sir, but could I offer you a glass of port?” Mr. Carrington nodded, and after Darcy poured the glasses and handed one to the man, he sat down and spoke thoughtfully, “I can understand now your concern over Alex’s attraction to the Bennets. They are his sisters.”
“So it would seem. He said that Mr. Bingley has a reputation of growing bored with ladies quickly, and that he would simply wait him out before approaching Miss Bennet. Do you know if they are more seriously attached? If they are, there is no need to reveal this secret to any of them, at least, no urgent need.”