by Pamela Lynne
The idea of Darcy being happy and proud to be with her was thrilling. Smiling broadly at her aunt, she said with only a bit of irony, “Mr. Darcy and new gowns, what more could a girl want?”
********
Not long after the conversation ended, the man himself appeared. Elizabeth’s heart filled with wonder as Darcy looked upon her with such affection and longing as if it had been days since he had seen her and not mere hours.
After greeting everyone good morning, Darcy asked Elizabeth to walk with him again. In the foyer, Darcy helped her with her pelisse and gloves but pulled her into him before she could don her bonnet.
“I missed you last night,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her gently.
“Mmm, I missed you as well.” She sighed as he kissed her again.
He pulled back and helped her with her bonnet, admiring her eyes in the process. He stole one more kiss then led her out the door.
“We should not wander too far today, Elizabeth. It is cold and looks like rain. I will not have you chilled.” He kissed her hand and wound her arm around his.
The park was deserted, likely due to the cold. Elizabeth led him down a different path than the day before. This one had rows of tall hedges on either side of the trail, perfect for young lovers to steal away from prying eyes. Darcy took advantage of their privacy and put his arm around her waist, drawing her close. She put her head on his shoulder as they walked slowly down the path. It felt so good to be near him.
“I want you to meet my sister,” he said after a few minutes of walking in silence.
“I would love to meet Miss Darcy. Tell me, is she as talkative as her elder brother, or does she find whatever is outside the window more interesting than the other people in the room?” she teased.
Darcy gave her a slight squeeze in response to her teasing and said, “Like me, she is very reserved and uncomfortable among people she does not know. Unlike me, I believe her reserve comes from a lack of confidence rather than dislike of society in general. I believe she would very much like to have a friend.”
“My aunt and I are going shopping this week. Do you think your sister would like to join us?”
“Elizabeth, if you could become her new shopping companion, I would be eternally grateful. I know more about fabric and colors than a man ever should from years of accompanying her to the modiste. I will bring her with me tomorrow morning, and you can ask her yourself. Even if she is feeling shy, I doubt she will miss the opportunity to shop with someone other than me.”
Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes showing all the adoration she felt. “You go dress shopping with your sister? How very sweet.” My Fitzwilliam is the sweetest man in the world. Fitzwilliam. Her smile grew. William. Will. My sweetest Will. She snuggled closer to him.
“Are you cold, dearest? We should return before it starts raining.”
“Very well.” My sweetest Will is so caring. Elizabeth feared her giddiness would cause her to giggle like a little girl.
Darcy released her waist and pulled her arm through his as they left the safety of the hedgerows. When they turned on the path that led to the street, he let out a deep sigh and began rubbing her hand nervously.
“Elizabeth, I must talk to you about my sister.” He related to her the events at Ramsgate, and by the time they arrived back at the Gardiners’, Elizabeth was in tears.
“How could I ever have believed such a horrible man?” she cried into his chest. “I am so sorry. How is your sister now?”
“I am not sure. We barely speak. I am afraid I am allowing my own hurt and disappointment interfere with comforting and correcting her.”
“Fitzwilliam, you must let that go, and the best way to do that is to talk to her. She needs to know how her actions hurt you.”
His sister was forgotten for a moment as Darcy’s hands began to roam along Elizabeth’s back. He nuzzled his cheek against hers as he breathed into her ear. “Say it again, Elizabeth.”
“What?”
He pulled her closer and kissed her earlobe. “My name.”
“Oh. Fitzwilliam,” she whispered.
He released a low, throaty moan and tightened his grip on her. “Again.”
Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. She always considered herself a rational being. She was not a flirt like her younger sisters, nor did she ever believe she was capable of putting herself in a compromising situation. Yet, for the past two days, she had done just that. She allowed liberties to be taken by a man with whom she had only recently become reacquainted. More than that, however, she wanted to allow more.
His touch two days prior soothed her, his kiss just yesterday warmed her, but his hands tracing the length of her back, combined with his heated stare, ignited something in her she could not name. She quite liked the feeling and loved that it was this man who was the cause.
She stood on her toes so her lips could reach his ear and again whispered, “Fitzwilliam.”
Darcy’s lips descended on hers with a passion that would have frightened most women, but not Elizabeth. This was the man she loved and trusted, and she was willing to accept anything he wanted to give. When his mouth parted hers to allow his tongue to slip inside, she did not recoil, but reciprocated with an ardor that nearly matched his own. Darcy was quickly becoming undone and knew he needed to pull away. He slowed his kisses and released his grip on her. They stood for a few moments with her head resting on his chest while they both tried to calm their breathing.
“We should find your aunt, or any chaperone, and finish talking about my sister.”
Elizabeth nodded in agreement and took his arm to lead him out of the foyer, which had become their favorite place in all of England.
********
Dark clouds settled over Hertfordshire, carrying an icy rain that pelted the ground like daggers. The sound of the frozen drops tapping against the window roused the figure lying slumped over the desk. He groaned and tried to open his eyes, but his lids were too heavy. He shivered. The room was cold; the fire had died hours ago, but he had not noticed. Again he heard the tapping. Who was trying to get in? He tried to speak, but his throat was too hoarse, and he could barely manage a whispered demand to enter.
He did not have to open his eyes to know that no one did. He did not hear footsteps on the floor, just the steady tapping. The sound finally ceased as a high winter howl blew through, shaking the house and sneaking down the chimney to give a deeper chill to the already cold room.
The figure at the desk sat up with a jerk, clutching at his chest in a now familiar pain. He tried to breath, but the air was too cold and contributed to the sharpness running through his insides. Panicking, he tried to find it, that silver canister that held his salvation, the only thing that dulled the ache. With his right hand still clutching his chest, his left hand made quick work of emptying his desktop and drawers. Where is it? His panic and the pain in his chest grew.
Finally, he noticed his coat lying crumpled in the corner where he had tossed it the night before. He quickly made his way to it and searched the pockets until he found what he wanted. He removed his hand from his chest as he fell to his knees and grasped the container tightly with both hands. Slowly, with shaking fingers, he uncorked the flask and brought it to his lips.
In three large gulps, it was emptied, and he leaned back against the wall, waiting. Finally, the pain subsided, and he felt tingling warmth pervade his body as panic and confusion fled his mind, leaving only the addictive emptiness.
********
While the man rested in his daze downstairs, his daughter sat at her desk in her room upstairs, staring at a blank sheet of paper. She gripped the pen firmly in her hand, willing the right words to come that would take away her guilt and restore her place in the heart of a most beloved sister. It had become a ritual for her: a sleepless night spent explaining to the shadows that she had been angry, hurt, and most of all afraid, followed by a morning spent staring at that paper, knowing there were no words that could undo the pain
she had caused.
Today had to be the day she finished this letter. Time was running out. Over the last month, she and Mary had given their father every excuse they could think of on why he should not go to London to collect Elizabeth. The last one being that he should wait for Mr. Collins’s next visit, which would be soon. When he arrived, they would make a final attempt to turn his interest to one of them, though their previous efforts had failed.
She had to explain everything. She had to beg for her sister’s forgiveness and warn her of their father’s plans. Yes, she had to write that letter today, no matter how hard it was to find the words. She dipped her pen in the ink and began.
My Dearest Lizzy,
Be not alarmed, dear sister, that this letter contains any of the vile words that passed my lips the last time we spoke. I know not where to begin to apologize to you for all the ugliness I spewed forth that day. All I can do is lay out the events that led to our argument that afternoon and hope that it will give you a better understanding of my actions. I do not ask you to excuse my behavior, for I do not do so myself, but I hope that the contents of this letter will soften your heart toward me so that one day I may earn your forgiveness.
As you well know, our household has never been calm or very dignified, as our mother has free rein to do as she pleases. We all have different ways to cope with her madness. Lydia and Kitty revel in the chaos while Mary loses herself in her daily routine of practicing the pianoforte and memorizing scripture. You and Papa make jokes and retreat to reading or long walks, and I smile. Our younger sisters make fools of themselves, and I smile. Our mother embarrasses us at every social function we attend, and I smile. Caroline Bingley insults our family while she laughingly engages me in false friendship, and I smile.
When we left our uncle’s house to return to Longbourn all those years ago, Aunt Gardiner advised me on the best way to handle Mama. She said that if I maintained my serenity on the inside, the chaos surrounding me would not hurt as much. I took her advice to heart, and it worked until last autumn, when he came.
Mr. Bingley has been the only person in my life so far that has tested my resolve and broken my serenity. I tried to remain composed in his presence, but my body reacted in ways that could only mean that I was falling in love. With every touch and look and conversation, I fell further. By the night of the ball, I was sure that I loved him above all others. But then he left. He did not even say goodbye.
I tried to smile after receiving Caroline’s letter, Lizzy. I retreated behind my calm facade as my heart shattered, but I no longer had the strength to maintain it. In the days following the ball while you were hiding from Mr. Collins, I sat with Mama at her insistence and listened as she lamented the loss of Mr. Bingley over and over. Her shrill voice proclaimed we were heading for the hedgerows, and if you did not marry Mr. Collins, we were surely doomed. I might not have been so affected by her effusions if not for what I witnessed soon after.
Dear Lizzy, I know that what I am to write next will give you pain, but you must know that Papa is ill. His heart has weakened, and he suffers a great deal of pain. He has not informed anyone of his condition, and I would not know myself if I had not come upon him after he collapsed one morning. He looked so pale and fragile, Lizzy. I have never been so frightened in my entire life. My mother was upstairs wailing about being thrown out of our home while my father lay on the floor looking as if death had already come to claim him. My serenity gave way to panic. I did not know what to do. Papa made me promise not to tell anyone and begged me to convince you to marry Mr. Collins. He seemed so desperate as he declared your marriage was the only way to save Longbourn.
It was with a great deal of fear and sadness that I entered your room that afternoon. I said things that should not be spoken to one’s worst enemy, let alone a dear sister. My serene mask was gone, broken to pieces like my heart. I do not know who that woman was who spoke to you that day, but it was not me. I may not know who the real Jane Bennet is anymore, but I know I will always look upon that day with regret for the pain I caused you. I am heartily sorry, Lizzy, and I pray from the very bottom of my soul that you will one day forgive me.
Our home has become even more erratic of late. Mama stays in her rooms must of the time, filling the air with a meanness that Kitty and Lydia have begun to mimic. Mary has taken the role of ardent protector since you fled to London, not just of me, but you as well. She does not know about Papa’s illness, but she has noticed his irregular behavior. Indeed, his actions are such that we cannot even recognize him as our father. Every few days, he emerges from his study and declares he is off to London to collect you for your wedding. Mary and I have distracted him from his purpose with anything we could think of to get him to stay. However, he seems to have developed a new resolve to come for you as soon as possible. I was able to convince him that he should wait until Mr. Collins arrives for his next visit, within the next weeks.
Lizzy, you must leave London. If you do not, I fear the freedom you fought so hard for will be taken away. Papa has been watching the post, both incoming and outgoing, to make sure none of us is in contact with you or our uncle. He believes if you do not receive letters from home, then you will miss us all enough to return on your own. I will endeavor to put this letter in the hands of someone who can take it to post in the village without Papa knowing.
Do take care, Sister. It is my greatest wish to see you safely away from Longbourn, though I do miss you so. Please try to let Mary and me know where you are and if you need us for anything, but perhaps not until after your birthday, just in case. I love you, Lizzy, with all my heart.
Your devoted sister,
Jane
Jane folded her letter, wrote the direction on the front, and rang for her maid. When Sally came into the room, Jane pressed the letter into her hand.
“Sally, it is imperative that this letter gets posted today. I do not want you to put it with the rest of the correspondence from the house. You must take it to the post yourself without anyone knowing, do you understand?”
“Yes, miss, I will take it right away.” She then curtsied and left the room, headed for the back stairs that led to the kitchen. She was so rushed that she did not notice Mrs. Hill carrying a large tray of breakfast items out of the kitchen until she ran directly into her. Both women fell to the floor. The food Hill was taking landed all over them, and the letter flew from Sally’s hand, skidded across the floor and under a hutch close to the kitchen entrance. Sally was in such pain from the hot food that landed on her chest that she forgot about the letter as she ran from the room to change her dress and tend to her wounds.
********
Darcy looked over his teacup at Elizabeth, who sat beside him on a sofa in the Gardiners’ parlor. Her cheeks were flushed, and he did not know whether it was due to the cold air or his kisses. He hoped for the latter. He cursed his impatience, knowing he would be miserable the next two months if he did not come to terms with having to wait. If how he felt upon entering his empty bedchamber the previous night was any indication, the anticipation of having her with him would surely kill him.
The months since he left Hertfordshire without her had been lonely and bitter. She had awakened passions in him he had long suppressed, and the memory of her brought pain and longing that he feared would break him. Being with her now, knowing she would be his, brought a different kind of torture.
Sitting across from them, Mrs. Gardiner noticed the way Darcy looked at Elizabeth. She thought it best to redirect the young man’s attention before he embarrassed himself.
“Mr. Darcy, you were telling us about your sister.”
“Yes, Mrs. Gardiner. She has been out of sorts of late, and I am at a loss as to how to help her. She has always been a sweet, obedient young lady. I am having trouble deciphering some of these new personality traits.”
“Sixteen year old girls are rarely easy to understand, for a man at least. Tell me, does she have any responsibilities outside of her studies?” asked Mrs
. Gardiner.
“No, I have always trusted my staff to run the houses. She is already quite occupied with her studies and with practicing her music. Do you think added responsibilities would help?”
“As I mentioned previously, my father began teaching me how to manage Longbourn when I was fifteen. Mama turned over some of the responsibilities of the house to Jane around that same time. My younger sisters were given no such tasks. You have seen the difference between the elder and younger Bennet sisters. I believe this is one of the reasons why they are so silly and unfocused,” Elizabeth said with a sadness that always came when she spoke of her family.
“Did attending to your duties give you confidence?”
“Without a doubt. I think what was most rewarding, however, was knowing that my father had faith in my abilities. Having someone believe in you makes such a difference to a young girl.” With this statement, Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Gardiner with much affection and gratitude. “I was fortunate enough to have that in both London and Longbourn, even if Papa’s motives were not as pure as my aunt’s.”
“It must be especially difficult for you, Mr. Darcy, to have had to take on the role of father at such a young age. I was fortunate enough to have elder brothers who were friends as well as protectors. Perhaps now that she is older, you can take on the role of friend as well as guardian. She may be more likely to take advice from someone who treats her with respect rather than blindly follow the rules of an authority figure,” advised Mrs. Gardiner.
Darcy seriously contemplated Mrs. Gardiner’s words. Becoming friends with Georgiana seemed unlikely. He had no idea how he would even begin. Elizabeth sensed his trepidation and offered a solution.
“Perhaps you can begin by discussing any recent events that may have caused trouble for the two of you. If you can offer her advice on how to avoid repeating any mistakes or even speak of your own experiences, it could begin bridging the gap. I am not saying it will be easy for you, but if you can get past the discomfort of speaking personally to one who sees you as superior, you may be rewarded with a deeper relationship.”