Chapter 11
Mr. Darcy was not an openly emotional man. He had long ago recognized this in himself and had made peace with it. Those closest to him -Georgiana and Bingley- knew this and understood that while he may not vocalize his regard and affection for others, there were no lengths that he would not go to for their sake.
But even Darcy himself, when he first came to Hertforshire and met Elizabeth Bennet, could not have predicted how far he would be willing to go for the woman whose intelligence, wit, grace and beauty he now considered to be above those of any woman he had ever been acquainted with. Even her scornful rejection of him, no matter how much thought he tried to give his wounded pride, had not been able to undo the depth of the emotion that had overcome him in her regard. He thought he would never again see her after that day, and had assumed that the intensity of his feeling would naturally fade with time and distance. But then, months later he arrived at Pemberley and there she was: as handsome as he remembered her, if significantly more bashful, as he himself had become upon sighting her.
From the moment he saw her again, it became evident that no circumstance could ever alter his feelings for her. When he was told of her engagement, however, he was prepared to accept a fate which kept him separated from her. He could not bring himself to interfere with her happiness if indeed she had found it somewhere else.
The question was, had she found happiness?
When at last he had confronted her and asked, if only to end the turmoil that tore at his chest every time he saw her -even if it meant standing aside- he had not received an answer. But her face, even shaded by dusk as it had been in that moment, had haunted his every thought since.
“She likes you,” Georgiana had said to him that night, her sweet voice catching a gentler tone than usual, almost motherly despite her young age. “I know it.”
Darcy respected his sister too much to dismiss her words as those of a child who did not understand. Instead, he said, “She’s to be married.” He spoke in a stoic fashion, attempting to keep emotion from inflecting his voice and mostly succeeding.
“But she likes you,” Georgiana insisted, always more outspoken when there were no others around.
Darcy almost smiled. “You have always been wiser than your years, but in this I do hope you are wrong.” For what could he do if his sister was right?
Then the next day news of Elizabeth’s younger sister reached Lambton and all ideas and fantasies were abruptly undone as she returned immediately to Longbourn and seemed once again to be gone far beyond his reach.
Ironically, this turn of events only helped to make his purpose clear. The memory of her pained face tormented him, and if it was within his power to return some measure of happiness to her, then he must do it. He left for London a day later, and his search for the dreaded Wickham began.
When he succeeded in securing a marriage for Elizabeth’s sister, Darcy thought that perhaps now he could finally walk away in peace. This is, in fact, what he set out to do. But when Mr. Bingley came to him and spoke once again of his sentiment for the eldest Bennet, a sentiment that Darcy now knew had been reciprocated, he realized that there was yet one more mistake that he had to atone for.
Darcy told Bingley that they must return to Netherfield, and Bingley must make his feelings known before it became too late (and, though Darcy did not openly allude to his own situation, he nevertheless felt the weight of his own words as he spoke them).
It took an additional day after getting to Netherfield for Darcy’s closest friend to overcome his nerves and excitement and make the trip to Longbourn. Darcy urged him on, in his own subtle way, taking a measure of comfort in knowing that his friend would soon be granted the happiness that may forever be denied to himself. And indeed, Darcy had no doubt that Bingley would be accepted. Hearing Elizabeth speak of her sister, and from his own acquaintance with the lady, he could not doubt the assurances that she did love Bingley.
It took very little time for his convictions to be proven true. Bingley did not wait to propose -he had waited long enough, he said to Darcy before speaking with her-, and the absolute joy with which she responded put to rest any lingering doubts of her intentions that may have possibly remained.
While Darcy did delight from this event, his enjoyment was rather dampened by the reality that faced him in Longbourn. Elizabeth was there -and, if possible, the very sight of her served to strengthen the already deep-rooted affection he held for her- but she was not on her own now. Her fiancé, the Duke of Ausbury, shadowed her every step.
Darcy had never been acquainted with the Duke, and so he had no prior basis on which to form judgement of his character. Upon meeting him, he could find no immediate fault. The man was courteous and well-spoken; a good match if ever there might be one for Elizabeth. He told himself that this man was more than capable of bringing her happiness, far more than himself who could scarcely converse with the ease that the Duke possessed. Yet Elizabeth’s smiles were not as wide, and her eyes not as bright as he had seen them on many another occasion. Again, however, he felt powerless to affect the situation.
Why should she not marry him? The man was clearly more charming than he, and of higher status as well. Darcy’s more cynical side wanted to question the Duke’s intentions with someone so far below his station, but what hypocrisy that would be! Both Bingley and himself had already fallen victim to the Bennet women, with nothing to gain from the match where their stations were concerned.
However, Darcy reflected, if the man truly did have any ulterior motive that could threaten Elizabeth’s happiness, and he did not even question the matter while there was time, how could he ever forgive himself?
The wedding had been set for Friday, only three days away. He made a deal with himself: should he find no cause to question the match, he would leave Hertfordshire before the wedding and forever part from the life of Elizabeth Bennet.
Chapter 12
Darcy decided that he would pay a visit to the Duke outside of Longbourn in order to better understand his character. He arrived at the home of the Elkins unannounced, on horseback, in early noon.
Mr. Elkins was a short man with a polite enough disposition, but like Darcy himself he lacked the charm to make him immediately commendable to others. In sharp contrast to his cousin, the Duke seemed almost like a prince with the manner in which he was able to address others in a way that was both proper and amiable.
“Ah, yes! I remember you well,” said the Duke after shaking Darcy’s hands. His gaze was friendly enough, but observant. “You are Mr. Bingley’s friend, correct?”
“Yes,” Darcy nodded, far from being at ease.
“Elizabeth mentioned you, I believe,” the Duke said. The remark seemed innocent, but Darcy recognized the way in which the man’s eyes waited to judge his reaction.
Though he burned to ask, he did not inquire as to what she had said. “We’ve been previously acquainted,” he said only, unable to deny the slight satisfaction he derived from seeing that the man’s affable expression wavered momentarily.
“Well, come inside then!” the Duke recovered with ease. “I should like to get to know my Elizabeth’s friends before we are married.”
The use of the term “my Elizabeth” seemed deliberate, and it served its purpose to make Darcy stiffen. But he was determined to uphold enough amiability to remain in the man’s company long enough to convince himself of his good motives.
An hour later, after a walk around the grounds of the Elkins’ house, Darcy had to admit that there was nothing out of the ordinary about the man who would marry Elizabeth in the next two days. If not particularly interesting, the man at least did not appear malicious. At once woeful and satisfied, Darcy prepared to leave the house. He was about to give his goodbye when a servant approached the men, and handed the duke a sealed letter.
The Duke, Mr. Milford, slipped the envelope into his pocket quickly enough as to elicit some suspicion. Before he hid it though, Darcy noticed that there was no vis
ible address on the envelope.
“It’s been an honour to chat with you,” Mr. Milford said lightly and dismissively.
Darcy might have taken offense at the dismissal if not for the fact that he had no desire to remain there any longer. Their goodbyes were short and civil, and Darcy mounted his horse and rode far enough up the road that led to town that he would be lost from sight. He walked his horse off the path then, and he waited.
He didn’t have to wait long before he saw a horseman coming from the direction of the Elkins house. Darcy waited for him to pass, then he remounted and followed from a distance all the way into town.
Darcy’s conscience debated that he might be tracking an innocent man’s correspondence, but the risk was worthwhile if it would guarantee his peace of mind. The rider had stopped at the small tavern and inn that lay on the edge of town, and Darcy disappeared inside after him.
As expected, the messenger was easily coaxed with a few coins, and he gave Darcy the destined address -a small estate in Ausbury- as well as a lady’s name: a Mrs. Gibbs. After a few extra coins, the man confided that the woman was married and had a child. He added that although both wife and husband had a darker complexion, the child had very noticeable red hair and blue eyes, and it was well known that the woman and the Duke had been very close at some point.
His mind racing, Darcy took the letter from the messenger, compensating him well enough that the man was content to ride away and allow the entire business to be forgotten and the letter lost. Upon reading the letter, there could be no further doubt about the man’s testimony and the suspicions that arose from it.
Darcy stayed at the inn that night; the next morning he returned to the Elkins’ house.
Chapter 13
A letter arrived for Lizzie at the time when Mr. Milford had been supposed to show up at Longbourn.
My dear Elizabeth,
I must confess that I am writing this letter out of cowardice, for I dared not face you while I reveal my shame to you. Firstly, I apologize for any pain this may cause you. Know that I truly do believe you to be a splendid woman, and I can only wish we had met under different circumstances.
It seems I cannot hide the truth any longer: my heart already belonged to another when I met you. Fortune did not favour me, as the woman who can claim my heart is married to another. The child they raise is my own, but I would never wish to shame my beloved or my child be revealing this truth. I had hoped, and in meeting you I thought I could realize this hope, that by marrying another I might secure their dignity and silence forever all rumours of our wrongdoings.
And while I hold you in the utmost esteem, this is also the reason why I cannot deceive you. Dear Elizabeth, you deserve to marry the man who loves you. You deserve to marry the one who would not rest until he secured your happiness by any means, and who would not stand by and let another offer you any less than what you deserve. I am not that man, and so I regret to say that I cannot go through with the wedding.
I know it is a lot to ask, but I beg that you do not think ill of me. And I pray that we are both able to find our happiness.
Forever your admirer and hopefully your friend,
Charles Milford
Lizzie burst into tears and covered her face with her hands.
Jane, who had been ever radiant since her engagement, looked terribly concerned and rushed over to console her sister. “Lizzie, what has happened?”
Mrs. Bennet, who had been hovering near by, walked closer. “Who is that from? Has Mr. Milford excused himself?”
“Lizzie please tell us what is the matter!” Jane was genuinely distressed, and Mrs. Bennet was about to work herself into a frenzy.
When Lizzie finally, removed her hands from her face, they all saw that she was laughing. Her face was pink and her cheeks wet from tears, but she was laughing with nearly hysterical joy. She hugged Jane, who was closest to her, and exclaimed, “Oh, Jane!”
The others did not know how to react, and finally Lizzie said, “I’m sorry, mama, but the wedding is cancelled.”
And then, unable to contain herself any longer, Lizzie broke away from the mother and sister and broke into a sprint. She raced out of the house, thinking only that she was too euphoric to restrain herself into a walk.
She had to run, but she had to get somewhere. Because she knew; she was finally certain of her feelings.
The reason she kept doubting Mr. Milford had nothing to do with his own intentions. It was her own heart that belonged to another, and if she had understood the contents of Mr. Milford’s letter correctly, her feelings might not be misplaced after all.
Jane, Kitty, Mrs. Bennet and Mary, shocked and unable to comprehend what was happening, all ran after Lizzie. They were several yards behind, but they were all close enough to see when Lizzie came to an abrupt halt, stopped by the approach of a familiar figure on horseback. Something about the approach from both man and woman made the Bennet ladies stop in their strides as well, and remain a respectful distance away as they watched the scene unfold.
Mr. Darcy was in front of Lizzie.
“Elizabeth,” Darcy dismounted his horse, unable to remove his gaze from the woman before him. “Have you received word from-?”
“Yes,” Lizzie interrupted him before he could finish. She was flushed from her sprint now, her voice winded but unwavering. “The wedding is off. It was you, wasn’t it?”
Darcy did not respond to the accusation- he didn’t have time.
“You saved Lydia too…” Lizzie said, seeing the man before her with a respect that she never thought it possible to feel.
“You must know…” Darcy finally said. “It was for you, all of it. It was all for you.”
Then, what Lizzie had thought to be completely impossible, began happening in front of her.
“My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.”
There was no objection this time, either on her lips or in her mind. She loved him. She had no doubt, and she had come so close to losing him forever because of her own foolishness that she knew she could never risk such a fate again.
“I believe,” Lizzie finally said, scarcely able to form her thoughts into coherent words. “That my own feelings have changed, very much so.”
Then she smiled, closed the distance between them, and let herself bask in a kind of happiness that not even her dreams could have conceived as possible.
It seemed, at last, that everything was as it should be.
Confusion, Confession and Conviction Page 41