Mrs. Bennet had never been a keen observer, and although she was delighted with the attentions Mr. Darcy had given her daughter during the wedding week, she had not suspected a serious attachment between them until he had left. His departure from the area must be the source of her daughter’s unhappiness.
“Thank you, my dear,” she said as she took the basket of flowers from Elizabeth.
Elizabeth managed a half smile for her mother before she turned to walk past her. Mrs. Bennet looked down at the basket in her hands, noticing that all the blooms selected were half wilted and certainly not the best of those available. She frowned, considering again her daughter’s situation.
“Have you written back to Miss Darcy yet, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth stopped and turned slowly to her mother with a quizzical brow. Then she remembered that Miss Darcy had left her a note when she did not come down to see her before she took her leave. It had been too much to face Darcy’s sister, the girl she had grown to love as her own.
“Not yet, Mama,” Elizabeth whispered.
“I suppose you are waiting until she is settled again in London. It has been a few days now, though,” her mother suggested kindly.
Elizabeth nodded and walked towards the stairs to her room. She had not written Georgiana because she did not think he would wish for the reminder. As much as it pained her to disappoint her friend, she did not think that either should further the acquaintance. His best friend was already married to her sister. They would often be thrown into each other’s presence, and eventually he would marry. She quickened her steps until she reached her door.
Stepping across the threshold, she turned and closed the door behind her, sinking against the wood. The very thought of his marrying anyone turned her stomach and caused her heart to beat painfully. He had a legacy to continue — an heir to secure for Pemberley. It was reasonable to assume that he would eventually overcome his affections and resolve himself to find another. She vowed she could not. She had no legacy, not without Mr. Darcy.
Walking towards her bed, Elizabeth sank heavily onto it. It had only been three days, and she was tortured with the thought of his moving on. She knew he loved her, knew he must be suffering with her now, but somehow she could not believe her hold on him could last forever. As for herself, she was his and would be until her last.
* * *
When Colonel Fitzwilliam knocked on his cousin’s bedchamber door, he received no answer. He suspected such would be the case, and so he raised his voice to be heard through the wood paneling.
“Darcy! It’s Richard! You have about three minutes to ready yourself before I open this door!”
A movement down the hall made Richard look in that direction. A chambermaid who had heard his declaration looked scandalized as she hurriedly entered another room. Richard smiled, amused. He took out his pocket watch and looked at the time. There were no sounds from within, and though the exacted time had not passed, Richard retrieved the key he had charmed off of Mrs. Carroll earlier and put it into the locked door.
Turning the key and entering the room, his senses were assaulted by a surfeit of unpleasantness. The room was stiflingly warm with a roaring fire in the hearth in the middle of August. The heavy drapes were pulled closed, trapping the heat inside and the light out. His eyes adjusted to the dimness and found his cousin.
Darcy was sprawled in front of the fire with his legs stretched before him, still in the same coat and waistcoat in which Richard last saw him days ago. His neckcloth was discarded, a crumpled heap on the floor. A three-day beard darkened the already dismal look on his cousin’s face. Walking further into the room, Richard was assaulted by the stench of an unwashed body and strong spirits. Disgusted, he did not attempt to lower his voice as he allowed a few choice expletives to escape.
Immediately, he tore open the drapes and unlatched the window to allow in a fresh, cool breeze. Turning towards his cousin, the colonel said, “I have seen barracks of footwablers in better shape then you and this room, Cousin.” He shook his head, taking in a deep breath of air by the open window.
Darcy took no notice of his cousin’s words and remained still, staring into the fire.
“Ignoring me, I see,” Richard droned — still no response from his cousin.
“Very well, it suits my purpose better this way. I will not have to endure your insipid arguments, and you have a lot to hear from me.”
Richard waited to see whether his hard words had any effect. They did not. Although he had genuine concern for his cousin, he grew livid thinking of the worry that Georgiana had suffered while his cousin nursed his sorrows with brandy.
“You, sir, are a coward.” Richard was satisfied to see his cousin wince. “You claim to be in love with the girl, and yet you will not fight for her. So she tells you she will not have you because of your negligence with Wickham? Give over! Convince the chit you deserve her anyway!”
Nearly startling his cousin, Darcy’s voice was low and incensed. “Do not refer to that lady so disrespectfully, Richard.”
Richard smiled. At least he got a response. “And why should I not? If Miss Bennet has no more sense than to see the man you are through what has happened, then she does not deserve my respect.”
Darcy clenched his teeth and brought the glass to his mouth for a practiced swig. He had already engaged in more of this conversation than he had wanted to.
“Deuces, man! Perhaps it is she who does not deserve you.” Darcy growled, yet his cousin went on. “She laid blame on you for the whole of it, did she? I have to say I am disappointed. I had not thought Miss Bennet so unfeeling. What were her exact words?”
Though preferring his own silence, Darcy could not let his cousin disparage her. “She had no words; I saw the condemnation in her eyes.”
Richard groaned into his hands and tried to control his sudden aggravation. “Are you telling me that, after encountering Miss Bennet and learning of Wickham’s deception with her sister, you saw her assign the blame to you in her eyes?”
Darcy did not deem his cousin’s sarcasm worthy of a reply.
“If you will not answer, I will assume it was so. Well then, I take back everything I have said. I am only sorry for what my own feelings have been.” He stood up to leave.
Darcy said nothing, still irritated at the interruption and frustrated by his cousin’s mockery.
Richard turned one last time to his cousin. “I came here out of concern for you, and I saw the anxiety that your wallowing has caused Georgiana. I see now that I have no reason to feel pity for you — not when I see that you are determined to be the blasted, honorable idiot that you think you are. I did not think Miss Bennet could have spoken such words. It did not seem in her nature be so unreasonable. Her eyes — humph!” Richard laughed mockingly.
Darcy shook his head; his cousin did not understand, and he could not expect him to.
“What seems more likely is that the lady would be concerned that you would not have her —certainly, not after having knowledge of her fallen sister.”
Darcy’s head snapped up. “Don’t be ridiculous! I could not love her less were all her sisters ruined.”
“But does she know that?”
Darcy returned to his drink; his only response was the rapid blinking of his eyes as he considered his cousin’s words.
Richard was getting tired of his cousin’s sour mood, the putrid room and its stifling heat. His tone was clipped and irritated. “So your plan to win her favor is to languish in this room brooding? Growing more dissolute by the hour, is it? A fine plan, Darcy.”
Richard walked towards the door and turned only when he had opened it. “And take a bath, Cousin; you stink.”
Darcy flinched at the loud sound of his chamber door slamming shut. If there had been any possibility Elizabeth did not hold him culpable, he would jump at it and prove to her his worthiness, but he had not the slightest hope. However, his cousin was right about one thing. He could not shut himself in his chambers forever, e
specially not when he considered Georgiana. Richard’s reminder of his duty to his sister pierced him. For the first time in days, he felt the stifling heat of the fire he had requested to be lit in an attempt to stave off the chill in his heart. He rang for his valet. The man was much relieved to receive his master’s request for a bath and a shave. Darcy was humbled. His staff and Georgiana had been worried about him. Although he knew he could never forget Elizabeth, he could no longer disregard his responsibilities.
After a bath and a shave, Darcy fell into his bed exhausted. He had not slept for most of the last few days and now that he had resolved to attempt normalcy again, his body succumbed. He noted the cleanliness of his room, obviously done while he bathed. The thought of his housekeeper’s efficiency being his last, Darcy drifted into numbing sleep.
* * *
As Georgiana expelled a deep breath, her shoulders sagged. She reached for her sealing wax and held it above the candle over her letter. Watching the deep purple of the wax drip onto the crisp paper, she said a small prayer that her efforts would help. Georgiana then pressed her Darcy seal into the hot wax. Her writing table was covered with the edges of her pen as she had mended it throughout the course of writing her letter to Elizabeth. Bits of the quill were scattered everywhere and blotted sheets of previous drafts were crumbled and discarded to the side.
Although it was difficult to relive the events of her past, it was liberating at the same time. For the first time, she felt that she had moved beyond the horrible events of last summer in Ramsgate. She loved Elizabeth, and she loved her brother. Furthermore, she knew they loved each other and deserved happiness ever after.
Her motives were not totally altruistic. Elizabeth had become quite dear to Georgiana. She had been guided by Elizabeth’s bright, lively personality, strengthening her own confidence to step beyond her timid tendencies. Their shared friendship was more important to her than any other friendship she had known. She was apprehensive that the contents she had shared in her letter would change Elizabeth’s opinion of her, but it was a risk she must take.
Standing, Georgiana pulled the cord, summoning a servant to collect the letter. She instructed it to be posted by way of express. Then she said another little prayer.
* * *
Mr. Bennet thanked Mr. Hill when he brought the post into his study. While he flipped through the letters of correspondence and business, he looked over to his favorite daughter, reading a book in her chair by the hearth. Mr. Bennet frowned; he did not like to see her so lost. Even now as she was looking down at her book, he could see that her eyes were not focused on the words on the page but somewhere beyond his study.
Mr. Bennet pursed his lips and looked down again at the letters in his hand. He placed them on the stack of other matters of business to which he had yet to attend and thought about what he ought to say to his daughter. Just as he was about to address her, there was a knock on the door and Mr. Hill entered with another letter. This one was marked express, and it was addressed to Elizabeth from Miss Darcy. Mr. Bennet thanked Mr. Hill and placed the letter in his pocket when he saw that his daughter had not even noticed the interruption.
He walked over to the chair next to her and reached for her hand. Elizabeth started in surprise but gave him a small smile.
“Are you enjoying that book, Lizzy? You seem quite engrossed in it.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat and attempted to put a bit of levity into her voice. “Yes, Papa. It is very diverting.”
Mr. Bennet smiled sadly at his daughter and then reached for the book and placed it back in her hands with the text facing the right way up. “I suppose it would be quite diverting to read upside down and backwards,” he teased.
Elizabeth colored in embarrassment for having been caught thus. Shamefacedly, she looked at her father, only to see his sympathetic eyes looking back. Elizabeth could not repress a small chuckle for her mistake and his teasing words. “I suppose I was a bit distracted.”
“You have been a bit distracted, my dear. I would say for about four days now.”
Elizabeth blushed again and closed the book in her hands, keeping her eyes trained strictly on its binding. “I miss Jane, I guess.”
“You must think your old Papa is ‘attics-to-let’ if you think I believe such nonsense.”
Elizabeth blinked and then laughed at her father. “You know it is not always a good thing to have one’s parent know you so well.”
Mr. Bennet was pleased to see her smile and laugh, though it did not quite reach her eyes. “I know you miss Jane, but that is not what has you so forlorn.”
“I am not forlorn.”
“Attics-to-let.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes again to the book and smiled as she shook her head.
“Perhaps a certain gentleman has something to do with your distraction.” Mr. Bennet frowned as he saw his daughter’s eyes cloud over at his reference to Mr. Darcy. “It seemed to me that your ‘arts and allurements’ were very close to working their magic on the gentleman.”
Hot tears stung at Elizabeth’s eyes, but she held her breath and attempted to push them back. “I do not wish to speak of this, Papa.”
She could not explain to her parents what had caused Mr. Darcy to leave so suddenly because doing so would require her to reveal Lydia’s indiscretions. That she could not do, not when they seemed so happy; they were finally finding peace with her sister’s death.
Mr. Bennet could see that the topic distressed his daughter exceedingly. With a gentler tone and with much tenderness, he said, “Very well, child. I will not press you if that is your wish.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved the letter from Miss Darcy.
Reaching over, he gently slipped the letter under his daughter’s hands that were gracefully folded on her closed book. He watched Elizabeth note the direction on the envelope and then saw her hopeless eyes water again. Something had happened, some kind of misunderstanding between the two of them. Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and went to kneel beside his daughter.
Taking her hand in his, he forced her to look at him. “Lizzy, dear, I know that you have always had your own mind and rarely yield to persuasion . . . But please listen to your old, attics-to-let father.”
At that Elizabeth giggled and smiled at her father with affection as she placed a hand on his cheek.
Mr. Bennet tipped his head into her hand to return the sentiment as he continued. “I know from experience the sorrow of losing years of happiness to a misunderstanding. Please do not make my mistake.” He indicated the letter in her lap. “Nothing can be lost that love cannot find if you will but allow it.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes, releasing the tears down the sides of her face. When she opened her eyes to her father, she could not miss all the love, earnest concern and affection that he had for her. Even though she did not feel she had reason to hope, she nodded to him to relieve him of his worry. She closed her eyes again when he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and stood.
Looking down at the letter in her hand, she thought about the other note from Miss Darcy. She had not yet even responded to that one. She felt wretched that Georgiana had written again. Surely, by now her brother would have informed her that their acquaintance was at an end. She examined the envelope and noticed the markings on it that indicated it had indeed come by express. She could not help then wondering at the reason for such haste in writing to her. Thoughts of Mr. Darcy’s welfare flashed in her mind, and she panicked at the thought that some accident may have befallen him. Excusing herself from her father’s study, Elizabeth took the letter and raced to the privacy of her room.
* * *
When Elizabeth reached her bedroom, she was most anxious to read the letter. By the time she had closed the door and locked it, she was filled with quite another feeling. Setting the unopened letter on her bed, she walked to her window. Georgiana was her link to Mr. Darcy, and the pain she had felt at his departure was still a fresh binding around her heart. No matter what the letter co
ntained, she knew it would pain her. Elizabeth looked at the letter. She needed to know he was well. She needed to brace herself for the onslaught of emotions that she was sure would come. Drawing in a fortifying breath, Elizabeth took up the letter again and held it in her hands.
Sitting on the bed, she pulled her legs up underneath her and pulled the counterpane over them before she turned the letter over to reveal the seal. Swallowing, she pushed her finger through, breaking the wax.
Another deep breath and she unfolded the letter, pressing it flat against her legs, before beginning to read.
Dearest Elizabeth,
Be not alarmed, dear friend, upon receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing a reminder of those events or those discoveries about your sister’s past that were so distressing to you a few days ago. I write without intention of paining you or anyone else by dwelling on history that, for the happiness of so many, cannot be too soon forgotten.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and suppressed the urge to cry again. She could not blame Mr. Darcy for sharing what they both knew of Lydia’s past with Georgiana. It was probably a necessary part of his explanation as to why she must end her acquaintance with Elizabeth. Oddly, she felt comforted by her friend’s words. Opening her eyes, she returned them to the pages in her hands.
It has come to my knowledge that an offense has been laid at the door of my brother by you, one that I feel it is incumbent on me to defend. However significant in its severity it may seem to you, I hope that after the recital of all that I have to relate, you will acquit my brother of wrongdoing. If, in the explanation of which I feel is due to him, I am under the necessity of stirring feelings that may be distressful to you, I can only say — I am sorry.
Elizabeth’s brows furrowed, and she became worried. What offense have I laid at Mr. Darcy’s door? She did not understand at all. It was her sister whose loss of virtue prevented him from connecting himself with her! But Mr. Darcy was not to blame. She read on.
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