Apprehension and Desire

by Ola Wegner

  “Oh, Charlotte.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Poor Amy, she was always such a nice person, and now her fate is even worse than Anne’s.”

  “I am not so sure of that.” Charlotte pursed her lips. “From what I have heard, she was given a small house in the country and a good living. She is very well provided for by that man. In a sense, she is more independent than a legally married wife in many cases. If she economizes and invests the money she receives from that man well, she may live comfortably on it in the future, when the whole affair ends. I dare say that the only thing she lacks now in life is respectability.”

  The maid entered, asking whether she could clean after tea.

  Elizabeth did not say anything, lost deep in her thoughts, as the servant took the dishes away. Charlotte left the parlour as well to give instructions about dinner.

  A quarter hour later, Elizabeth found her friend in the kitchen. “I think I need to go for a long walk. There is much, indeed, that I have to think about.

  Chapter Two

  Elizabeth ran down the stairs at the parsonage, her bonnet, which she held dismissively by its blue ribbons, dangling by her knees.

  She was already by the front door, reaching for the doorknob, when she heard Charlotte’s voice.

  “Lizzy, you are going out?” Mrs. Collins came out from the back of the house, wearing a large, flowery apron, which protectively hugged her elegant day dress. “You have already walked before breakfast today.”

  “I know, Charlotte, but it is such a glorious day today,” Elizabeth cried happily, her eyes sparkling. “There is only a week left of my stay here, and I want to make the most of it.”

  “We are expected at Rosings Park today,” Charlotte reminded.

  “I shall be back before four o’clock. Do not fret, my dear!” Elizabeth cried, already on the path outside the house.

  “Put your bonnet on at least!” Charlotte called from the threshold. “Elizabeth, the sun is strong today. You do not want to get tanned like a gypsy, do you!?”

  Mrs. Collins shook her head at her spirited friend, who only waved her hand at her, running towards the nearby grove, putting on her bonnet hastily in the process. Sometimes she truly understood why Mrs. Bennet’s nerves were so affected, having such a lively daughter as Elizabeth. Sometimes she behaved like a ten year-old.

  As for Elizabeth, she felt herself in high spirits today. It had been over three months now since she last had seen her dearest sister, Jane. Exactly a week from today, the manservant from her Uncle Gardiner’s was to arrive at Hunsford to accompany her and Maria to London. It was planned they would stay for another week in town with the Gardiners before returning to Longbourn. She stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and looked around, taking in the beauty of nature around her. She would miss the countryside here in Kent to be sure, but there was little chance she would visit this part of the country again.

  Her stay here had proved to be very educational in more than one respect. For the last six weeks, Elizabeth had keenly observed Charlotte’s life, and it seemed to her that her friend’s life was truly happy. It even presented itself as attractive. Mr. Collins played such an unimportant role there. He was easily directed and easily disposed of. All day long, he was in the village, in the church, or at the manor being at every beck and call of Lady Catherine. When he happened to actually be at the parsonage, Charlotte always found a way to make sure he was occupied. She encouraged him to devote his time to preparing his sermon for the upcoming Sunday or to work in the garden for his health.

  Mr. Collins, on his part, seemed to be perfectly content with such swift management of his person and daily schedule by his wife. He was always ready, and happy, to fulfil the wishes of his dearest Charlotte, as he constantly called her. The marriage had not added to his general sensibility, however, and Elizabeth often barely contained herself from rolling her eyes at the nonsense Mr. Collins spoke daily at dinner. At those moments, Elizabeth looked at her friend to notice that Charlotte had not even registered her husband’s stupid remarks . Her most typical comment in such cases was: ‘Yes, yes, my dear, that is very interesting. Would you like more pudding?’

  For the first time in her life, Elizabeth doubted whether her resolution of marrying for love only, not simply for convenience, was the right one. On the other hand, she knew that were she given a chance to respond to Mr. Collins’ proposal again, she would undoubtedly refuse him once more. She began to allow the thought of sharing her life with a man she did not love, perhaps, but esteemed enough for his mind and intelligence to marry him. Her imagination started to create the figure of some as yet unknown gentleman, whom she would marry, without the deepest affection, perhaps, but with due liking and respect, as a means of ensuring herself a safe future.

  She had known for sure that the life which the Parker sisters lived was something she wanted to avoid at any cost. There was no doubt that Charlotte’s life with Mr. Collins was a ten times better solution than the situation in which Anne Parker or, even worse, her sister, Amy, had been placed. For now, Elizabeth was convinced, or rather she was telling herself, that should there would be a man who could ensure her a safe, comfortable life, she would reconsider his offer, even without affection.

  It had been in the second week of her stay at Hunsford that guests had arrived at Rosings Park. They were Lady Catherine’s nephews, Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth had not anticipated meeting Mr. Darcy, remembering him only as the prideful, disagreeable, arrogant man who considered her not attractive enough to even tolerate dancing with. In her eyes, he was one of those haughty aristocrats, like the man who had brought poor Amy Parker to such a shameful situation.

  However, his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam proved himself to be a very different kind of man. Elizabeth had to admit that she had not ever met such an amiable, charming man since meeting Mr. Wickham and Mr. Bingley last autumn. Elizabeth was flattered that Colonel Fitzwilliam paid her attention, and she enjoyed his company. She knew that his intentions were nothing more than a light flirtation; he made himself clear enough on this, but it did not stop Elizabeth from anticipating their meetings.

  Unfortunately, whenever she had a chance of carrying on a pleasant conversation with the colonel, his haughty cousin, Mr. Darcy, had to appear as well. He was always staring at her and making some odd unconnected remarks. Every time Colonel Fitzwilliam called at the parsonage, Mr. Darcy, to Elizabeth's great irritation, had to come as well. He spoke very little and just stared at her and his cousin chatting together with a sort of disapprobation in his dark eyes, if Elizabeth could read him properly. Perhaps he was afraid that she wanted to make a catch of his precious cousin and decided to watch to make sure that nothing improper would happen between the two of them.It amused her when Charlotte suggested that Mr. Darcy was in love with her. Her friend concluded that it was the only explanation for Mr. Darcy’s unusual behaviour, his staring, his seeking Elizabeth’s company, his daily visits at the parsonage, even the fact that Elizabeth quite often happened to meet Mr. Darcy during her solitary walks. Elizabeth laughed off Charlotte’s suspicions. She, for her part, was convinced that Mr. Darcy was the last man in the world who could have romantic feelings for her. He acted oddly, it was true, but it was not Elizabeth’s intention to waste her time trying to find the explanation to Mr. Darcy’s idiosyncrasies.

  “Miss Bennet,” she heard, and turning around, she saw Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth waited with a pleasant smile till he caught up with her and accepted the offer of his arm. The colonel started his usual amiable chit-chat, and Elizabeth relaxed in his company. Suddenly, it crossed her mind that the colonel might have heard something about Mr. Bingley’s whereabouts, probably from Mr. Darcy himself. Jane had not mentioned Mr. Bingley in her letters for a very long time, and Elizabeth wondered what he was doing now.

  “Do you know Mr. Bingley and his sisters?” she asked, making sure her voice had a light tone.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam did not seem to be surprised with her enq
uiry and spoke easily. “Yes, I met them a few times. We attend the same club with Mr. Bingley, but he is more my cousin Darcy’s good friend than mine. I can even say that Darcy is very protective of him as his friend. He cares for him like a younger brother. I know, for example, that last autumn he saved Bingley from entering into a very unfortunate marriage.”

  Elizabeth’s heart sank, but she managed to reply indifferently. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, as far as I understand, the lady was quite beautiful and charming, but her family proved to be entirely unsuitable. Darcy suggested to me that Bingley was simply caught by a pretty face, not for the first time, I dare say.”

  Elizabeth stopped and her face went pale. It screamed in her head that the lady in question whom the colonel talked about had to be Jane. Mr. Bingley had spent the entire autumn in Hertfordshire after all, and the only lady he courted there was Jane. So it was all Mr. Darcy’s fault! He had to have been the one to convince Mr. Bingley to leave the country and abandon Jane without even a word of explanation or proper farewell. So far Elizabeth had only had a suspicion that it had been Mr. Bingley’s sisters who had opposed his interest in Jane, but apparently, from the colonel’s allusions, it had been Mr. Darcy as well, surely plotting together with them. What a hateful, cruel man he was, destroying the lives of people around him at his whim, first Mr. Wickham’s and now her sister’s. And these were only two cases of his misconduct that she was aware of – she wondered how many other lives Mr Darcy had ruined.

  “Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet, are you quite well?” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s concerned voice rang in her ears.

  She looked up at the sincere face of the man beside her. “I…” She swallowed and her eyebrows creased. “I am afraid I must go back. I promised Mrs. Collins that I would return early.”

  “Yes, of course.” Colonel Fitzwilliam gave her a careful look and added. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but you do look unwell.”

  “It is a sudden headache. I think I have walked too far today.” Elizabeth explained in weak voice.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam proposed, and even insisted, on walking her back to the parsonage, but she refused, preferring to be left alone. She thanked the colonel for his company and walked away from him, without looking back even once.

  She did not remember how she reached the parsonage, but she went straight to her room and lay down on the bed, without even removing her spencer.

  Soon there was a soft knock at the door and Charlotte entered. “Lizzy, I did not hear you come back. It is time for us to go to Rosings. Lady Catherine has sent a carriage for us.”

  “Forgive me, Charlotte, but I will not attend tonight,” Elizabeth whispered, slowly lifting to a sitting position and unbuttoning her spencer.

  “What is the matter, Lizzy?” Charlotte enquired with obvious concern in her voice, leaning over her friend.

  “Nothing serious, Charlotte.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I believe I simply walked too far. You were right; the sun has been strong today.”

  Mrs. Collins stroked Elizabeth’s hair. “I shall explain your absence to Lady Catherine. I am sure she will understand your indisposition. Now, do rest. I shall order some herbal tea for you in the parlour in half an hour. It is a special blend I brought from home which aided my mother many times when she suffered from headaches.”

  “I thank you, Charlotte,” Elizabeth murmured, lying back on the bed, closing her eyes.

  She must have fallen asleep for some time, but it felt like only a moment when the maid knocked, informing her that her tea was being served downstairs. Elizabeth let out a weary sigh, eventually rejecting the thought of asking to bring the tea to her room.

  She refreshed her face with some cool water before walking downstairs. In the parlour, she took a sip of tea, which had a pleasant scent, but tasted horrible. Still, she obediently drank the entire cup, aware of Charlotte's efforts to make her feel better.

  But suddenly, her surprise could not have been greater, when the maid entered, announcing Mr. Darcy. He all but stormed into the room, breathless and somehow agitated, starting immediately to ask about her well-being. Elizabeth answered shortly that she was feeling better and then stayed silent. It was not her intention to speak with that man. She did not care whether he considered her rude or unsocial. She wanted him to go away, still having no idea why he had come here alone in the first place.

  Elizabeth did not lift her eyes from her lap to look at Mr. Darcy, but she was well aware of him pacing the room in a restless manner.

  She felt shivers run down her spine when he walked close to the chair where she sat. He was standing so close that she imagined she could sense his warmth and smell his manly scent. His eyes were on her, and at last she gathered her courage and looked up.

  Mr. Darcy stared at her for a moment or two before reaching for her hand. The next moment, a most astonished Elizabeth could feel the hot, moist kisses on the top of her hand.

  “I cannot carry on like this anymore. God be my witness, I cannot,” Mr. Darcy whispered fervently.

  To Elizabeth’s relief, he freed her hand, putting it gently back on her lap. “In vain I have struggled; it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

  For the next few minutes, the most astonished Elizabeth had the opportunity to hear about Mr. Darcy’s deep admiration and most passionate regard for her; but she also heard how unsuitable he had found her family and her connections, and how much it had cost him to convince himself he could allow himself to love her. For a short moment, remembering the story of poor Amy Parker, it crossed her mind that he would propose to her the position of his mistress. But nothing like that happened; after his speech of his great affection and even greater sacrifice, he took her hand gently again, closing it into both of his, and said. “I beg you to relieve my struggles and agree to become my wife.”

  Her first reaction was to say no, to refuse outwardly, this prideful and selfish man. She was about to say the biting words of refusal, when the scene from the inn again stood in front of her eyes. She remembered her resolution, made only recently, that she would accept the man who would be able to ensure her a comfortable life.

  Now, the situation which she had only imagined herself to be in one day, was happening. Here was a rich man, with such a position in the world, who wanted to marry her. This was a chance for her to ensure a safe future. She could not fool herself that another man like Mr. Darcy would cross her path again. It was not very likely. He was not Mr. Collins either. He might be arrogant and disdainful to the feelings of others, but he was educated, worldly and intelligent. She could never have objections to his sensibility, tastes and reasoning.

  Elizabeth removed her hand from his grip, stood up and walked to the window. Could she accept him? But what about all those things he had done to Jane and to Mr. Wickham? Was Mr. Darcy’s behaviour towards them simply the result of his indifference to the lives of others or some more deeply rooted general cruelty of his character? Lastly, how could she accept him when she did not know him?

  She trembled when she sensed him coming behind her. She closed her eyes, hearing him softly saying her name and turning her gently to him.

  “Elizabeth,” he repeated very softly. “Are you well?”

  She lifted her eyes and stared into his handsome face. Yes, he was handsome and tall, well built, his chest broad, his face with a noble look to it. He was nothing like Mr. Collins where his outward appearance was concerned. She had to admit he was a much more than reasonably attractive man.

  And Jane, she should think of Jane. As Mrs. Darcy, she would be in a position to see to it that Jane and Mr. Bingley would meet again. If Mr. Darcy, despite all the objections concerning her family and her position in the world, which he so elaborately had laid down just a few minutes ago, had eventually decided to propose to her, he would not prevent his best friend from doing the same with her sister.

  Elizabeth stared into his eyes, feeling his big, war
m hands resting lightly on her shoulders. There seemed to be a truth in his eyes; his gaze was warm and genuine, as if he was, indeed, concerned about her. She reminded herself that though he had offended her family and upbringing, he had to care, or at least imagined himself to care, for her if he had decided to propose marriage to her. He clearly found her desirable, he wanted her, but still despite her low connections and lack of fortune, he was honourable enough to ask her to be his wife and not a mistress.

  “Sweetheart,” she heard, and blinked her eyes at him. “Elizabeth.” He leaned forward, his hands resting more heavily on her arms now. She shut her eyes tightly for a short moment and concentrated to say the words.

  “I thank you, Mr. Darcy. I do accept.” It came out so quietly that it was barely heard, even to herself. She averted her eyes from him, resting them stubbornly on the ornament of the mantelpiece.

  She thought the silence between them lasted an eternity. Perhaps she should not have agreed so quickly, she thought in panic. She should have asked him for a day or two to think about his proposal. Her body stiffened involuntarily when she sensed him stepping closer. Her heart stopped when she felt his hot breath against her temple.

  “There is no need to be shy with me, Elizabeth.” He tilted her chin making her look at him.

  His eyes were kind and his voice gentle, but she barely registered that. All she wanted was to be left alone now. She desperately craved a moment alone to think everything through.

  Her eyes widened in shock when he began leaning further towards her, his gaze focused on her lips. He wanted to kiss her! At the last moment, she turned her face from him, offering him instead her cheek.

  “Forgive me,” she heard, and he stepped back from her.

  “I will go to Longbourn first thing in the morning to ask your father’s permission.” His voice sounded more formal now. “Perhaps you would wish to write a letter to your father, explaining the situation.”