“No wonder Mr. Darcy disliked him so. We can be grateful he came upon you when he did.”
Elizabeth kept her eyes averted. Should she share the rest of the tale? Jane was in no danger from Mr. Wickham, and the man would be arrested shortly. No, Elizabeth had abused Mr. Darcy enough. She would not abuse his trust by sharing the story of his sister. Elizabeth’s own attack served as sufficient evidence of the man’s depravity without involving Mr. Darcy’s sister unnecessarily.
“I do not know how much we should tell Papa, or how much Mr. Darcy may have already shared with him.”
“Do not worry on that now. Right now, you need rest. Let me help you clean up and I will send for some tea for you.”
Elizabeth accepted the assistance in silence and allowed Jane to soothe as she helped her undress. Elizabeth did need rest, but more, she needed time alone to sort through her thoughts and understand exactly what had happened. In the space of a few hours her life had once again been turned upside down.
CHAPTER 18
Elizabeth left for London the following day. She was not injured, and the family had agreed that she should leave town for a while to avoid any talk that might arise regarding Mr. Wickham.
He had been gone when Colonel Forster had arrived at the location Mr. Darcy had described. While Elizabeth was glad the man had not died in their absence, she was concerned that his whereabouts were unknown. She agreed with her father’s assessment that the man had likely fled the area to avoid arrest as well as the many debts he had incurred with the local shopkeepers. How many more debts of honor he had left behind was unknown.
Helping Mary prepare for her wedding was an understandable reason for Elizabeth to go to London. She and Mary would stay with the Gardiners for a fortnight then return to Longbourn for the wedding.
After talking with her father and Jane, they had decided it was best that her sisters not know the full extent of what had happened to Elizabeth. Gossip could only hurt Elizabeth’s reputation, and her youngest two sisters were completely untrustworthy when it came to any piece of truly exciting gossip.
The girls had been told that Mr. Wickham was not a gentleman and they would have no further association with the man. He would no longer be welcome at Longbourn and they were to sever all contact with him. His desertion greatly simplified matters as he was no longer in the area and the local townspeople had begun to share just how disreputable the man was. In light of Mr. Wickham’s absence, no further discussion had been deemed necessary regarding Elizabeth’s interaction to ensure her sisters’ adherence to their father’s order.
Elizabeth looked out the window of the Gardiner’s parlor, watching the people walk by. Gracechurch street was a good deal busier than the streets of Meryton and Elizabeth loved watching people. The entertainment helped distract her from her gloom.
“Lizzy, we are going to the dressmaker this afternoon,” her aunt announced as she entered the room. “Mary does not believe she needs anything, but I have assured her that we will be reasonable in our purchases. I believe she is imagining the list of items your mother would have insisted that she needed upon marrying.”
Elizabeth smiled. She was glad they had their Aunt Gardiner for assistance in wedding preparations. She was a sensible woman and would see to it that they gathered the necessary items for Mary’s life as a clergyman’s wife. No doubt her mother would have been mortified by the simplicity of their plans.
“I will be ready.”
“Lizzy,” her aunt hesitated and then closed the door before continuing. “Are you well?”
“I am,” she replied slowly, uncertain what her aunt was really asking.
“You have seemed so distant of late, I must admit to some concern on your behalf. You know you need not tell me anything you do not wish, but I must ask: Were you injured more seriously than you told your family? I do not wish to pry, but I want you to know that you can confide in me. Some secrets can become more painful the longer they are kept, especially ones kept in shame. You are not to blame for the actions of another.”
Tears threatened Elizabeth’s eyes, but she would not allow her aunt to continue to worry.
“The man kissed me. When I slapped him, I feared he would do worse, but he had not the opportunity. I kicked him and he shoved me to the ground, but that was the worst of his actions. He did not . . .” Elizabeth searched for words that would answer her aunt’s concerns while not being too graphic, “He did not impose himself upon me any further than that.”
Mrs. Gardiner closed her eyes briefly as she released a breath. “I am glad for that. You have been so far outside your normal behavior that I worried something more serious had occurred.”
Elizabeth gave a hollow laugh as she glanced again out the window. “I am afraid I do not know myself any longer, so I scarcely know what normal behavior should be.”
Her aunt said nothing, so after a pause Elizabeth continued.
“I do not trust my judgment. I have always known I am no great beauty, nor am I as kind as Jane. I am not so accomplished at the pianoforte as Mary. Despite their near deliberate ignorance, even Kitty and Lydia can draw and paint better than I can. What I did have was my mind. I have always prided myself as being the most intelligent of my sisters, but I was mistaken. I have been no better than Lydia at judging the true value of people. If I am so easily duped and misled, what do I have left? I suppose I am an excellent walker, but such a skill is a poor foundation for building an identity.”
“Lizzy,” her aunt began as she moved closer and put her arms around her niece, “You are too hard on yourself. Even the wisest people can be misled by someone determined to deceive. To be so deceived by one you had considered a friend is a great blow, but it does not follow that you should assume the rest of your mind to be faulty as well.”
Elizabeth let her aunt soothe her. Disappointed as she was in her assessment of Mr. Wickham, it was her assessment of Mr. Darcy that weighed most heavily upon her. She could understand that some people in the world were bent upon evil and would do what they could to disguise their intent. She had never previously known such a person, but could acknowledge the possibility of their existence in the world in a way that Jane, in all her goodness, likely could not.
No, she did not fault herself too severely for having fallen victim to Mr. Wickham’s manipulations. Of Mr. Darcy, she had no such excuse. He had not deceived her, he had been nothing but himself from the very start of their acquaintance. While his behavior had not been pretty or flattering, it had been real. He did not present himself in the best light at times, but he had never been deceptive. He had not even offered the pretty lies and flattery that were not only socially acceptable, but expected. Mayhap that was why she had not really seen him. His innate honesty had refused to allow him to abide by such social niceties.
But he truly was the better man. She could dislike his haughty manner or unwillingness to participate in some social norms, but at his core, Mr. Darcy was a good man. Well, he was an honest one at least, and right now honesty ranked as a paramount virtue for Elizabeth. No, he was good. Besides being honest, he adhered to a sense of duty. Why else would he have sought out Elizabeth to protect her after she had been so abusive to him? His sense of honor required him to protect where he saw vulnerability. That in itself made him a good man, no matter how disagreeable he may be in company.
Elizabeth realized she had been silent for too long and her aunt was watching her. Had she missed a question while she was wool gathering?
“I will be fine, I assure you. My spirits can never stay low for long. I simply need to adapt to my new understanding of myself and the world, but I will be well. You have no need to worry about me. Now shall we visit some shops with Mary? I know I need to visit the dressmaker as well. I shall be glad to leave the black of full mourning behind and begin to wear some color.”
“I will be glad when I see you free from your melancholy. I suspect Mr. Wickham preyed upon your already low spirits, hoping to ingratiate himself.”<
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“I suppose he did. I came to look forward to our talks as he would always make me laugh at some nonsense or other. He gave me a chance to feel normal again.” Elizabeth thought back on their time together and frowned.
“What are you thinking?”
“I was just remembering how he would cheer me up only after he had depressed my spirits further by speaking of my mother and my guilt.”
“Oh Lizzy, you cannot blame yourself for what happened to your mother, though I can see how such a thought would be comforting.”
“Comforting?”
“Yes, comforting. If you are to blame, then you must have control over the results of all of your actions. Guilt is a far more comfortable feeling than helplessness. The truth is that terrible things can happen in an instant no matter how careful you are. Accepting that truth is far more terrifying than the relative discomfort of blaming yourself for an accident.”
“She was angry with me.”
“And you were angry with her. You could just as easily blame Mr. Collins for proposing and causing your disagreement. We could trace the event even further back and blame your mother for not having a son, which made such a proposal conceivable. You did not trip your mother, so to cast blame on any earlier event is folly.”
Mrs. Gardiners voice softened. “You already know this, but you do not feel it yet. You will in time. My first child was stillborn and I blamed myself. For months, I wondered what could have been had I only taken better care of myself – had I spent more time resting, had I spent less time resting – something I had done must have been at fault.”
“I am sorry.”
“The pain fades, but it never truly goes away. In time you will learn to accept that on occasion tragedies happen, despite your best efforts. You will also learn that sometimes miracles result despite your worst mistakes.”
“I had not realized you were such a philosopher, Aunt.”
“Time makes philosophers of us all, Lizzy. Your relationship with your mother was contentious when she lived, why should that change now? Once you have children, she will make much more sense to you.”
“She could hardly make less sense to me than she does now. I hear stories of her that make me wonder if people are describing the same woman I lived with.”
“Your mother was a woman consumed by worries for her children’s future. Had she felt less for you, she would not have been so anxious. Your independence caused her particular concern, so she was harsher with you than with your sisters. You may view her attacks of nerves as the truest sign of affection she was able to offer.” Mrs. Gardiner reached over and patted Elizabeth’s hand.
“She was a much different woman when she was younger, before she had children. I did not know her then, but your uncle tells me she changed much after you and your sisters were born. I saw how she changed during the ten years I knew her.”
“In what way?”
“Each year she became a little more nervous, a little more tightly wound. When your father had pneumonia a few years back, her anxieties accelerated and she became frantic. At that point, she decided to ignore conventions. She told me all of her daughters would be out as soon as she felt them ready. She had not the time to limit how many of her children were considered available for marriage. She would not risk Lydia and Kitty’s futures waiting on proposals for you and Jane.”
Elizabeth considered her mother as she added these new pieces to her picture. She had never believed her mother to have much depth. How little Elizabeth had known her.
“You should ask your uncle to tell you more about her sometime.”
“Mayhap I will.”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Gardiner responded as she patted Elizabeth’s knee. “Now it is time for us to visit the shops and ensure Mary has what she needs for her new life.”
Elizabeth rose and took her aunt’s arm as they left the room, and hopefully the gloom as well, behind them.
~ ~ ~
Darcy glanced out the carriage window again, but the view was no different from the last several times he had checked. Rain continued to pour from the heavens, confining him to the carriage for his return to London.
Bingley had chosen to remain in Hertfordshire and Darcy was glad. Much as he would have enjoyed his friend’s company, Darcy could well do without the man’s sisters right now. Miss Bingley was bad enough at Netherfield, he shuddered to think of being trapped in a carriage with her for hours on the journey.
Darcy was glad to be left alone with his thoughts. He had already given himself a lecture on propriety and duty. He was leaving Elizabeth behind, in every sense of the word. He would see her no more, he would think of her no more. Darcy owed it to his family to marry well. He could not marry Elizabeth; such an association would be a degradation. He would not damage his sister’s prospects for a successful union.
Pemberley could well afford the outlay of his sister’s dowry, even without his acquiring a bride with sufficient funds of her own. If every other facet of the union were beneficial, he would have no issue with a relatively impoverished bride. But to marry a lady with no connections, let alone the low connections Elizabeth came with, would be irresponsible of him. He had a duty to future generations to see to the longevity of Pemberley. Catastrophe could come at any time, so he would be foolish to ignore wealth in choosing a bride, no matter how prosperous Pemberley may be at the moment. Connections could be just as valuable as wealth if they enhanced the marriage prospects of the current and next generations of the family.
To harm those prospects without adding to Pemberley’s coffers would be an affront to all he held dear. His father had long pressed on Darcy the importance of family. He was but a caretaker of Pemberley. Much as his father and grandfather had done for him, Darcy’s responsible management would ensure the estate continued to produce an income for the generations to follow.
Darcy knew his duty and would forget Elizabeth. A marriage to her would be selfish in the extreme. Darcy drummed his fingers on the seat beside him. More importantly, as enjoyable as he found Elizabeth’s company, she did not take pleasure in his.
He had absolved himself, in her eyes, of any ill-treatment of Wickham. Her displeasure in his company he could do little to resolve. Darcy knew he was not a man of happy manners. He enjoyed Bingley’s company precisely because Bingley had all the social talents that Darcy lacked. Darcy had hoped he might learn some of Bingley’s social skill after spending so much time with his friend, but that hope was for naught.
No matter. He would return to London and find a suitable bride. Much as he may want a lady with whom he could comfortably converse and who would bring laughter to Pemberley, such was not a requirement. He could, and very well might, end up in a relationship no more than a business arrangement. Plenty of others had done so, and managed quite well.
Darcy needed to leave behind more than just Elizabeth. He needed to leave behind this notion that he deserved more out of his marriage than what he had witnessed in that of others. He needed to abandon the dream of a partnership based on love and mutual respect. He would respect his wife – after all, he would never marry anyone not respectable – and accept that the partnership would be one of management. His wife would manage the household while he saw to the rest of the estate. She would bear him children and ensure the lineage continued while he ensured the financial security of that lineage.
He would move on. He knew his duty.
A Darcy always did his duty.
CHAPTER 19
Mary and Mr. Collins wed on a sunny March morning. Mary had chosen a lavender gown that flattered her coloring, and Jane and Elizabeth assisted with her hair. When Mary became Mrs. William Collins she truly looked more beautiful than at any other point in her life.
More than the stylish gown and hair, Mary looked happier than anyone had ever seen her. Her joy that day gave her a happy glow, and as she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm she was honestly pretty.
Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchi
ef. As happy as she was for Mary, despite her confusion as to how anyone could be so happy marrying Mr. Collins, Elizabeth grieved more that day than she had for some time. At every turn, all Elizabeth could think of was how excited her mother would have been, how inappropriate her gloating to her neighbors, how she would have enveloped her newly-favorite daughter in her arms and even fawned over Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth put on a good face, but she found little joy in the day, no matter how hard she tried to put away her sad thoughts.
Jane took her arm as she watched the wedding breakfast.
“I do not know if Mamma would be in a fit of nerves that all goes well or if she instead would be regaling Lady Lucas of the joy to be found in having a daughter well married.” Elizabeth smiled and leaned her head against her sister’s shoulder, not at all surprised that Jane’s words should so closely mirror her own musings.
“I miss her,” Elizabeth said.
“And this surprises you?”
“I confess it does. We did little but quarrel and I never did anything that pleased her, yet I miss her. Especially at times like these.”
Jane hugged Elizabeth’s shoulders in a gesture of support.
Mary walked over to the sisters and they opened their arms to include her in their embrace.
“Well, little sister, you have now usurped us all. Are you happy, Mrs. Collins?”
Mary beamed, leaving little doubt of her feelings.
“I am so very happy. I feel terrible for being so happy when Mamma is not here, but Mr. Collins assures me that I am entitled to my joy on this day and that Mamma would tell me the same.”
“You know that she would.”
Mary checked to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation before continuing. “I fear I am ill prepared for marriage.”
Elizabeth and Jane looked awkwardly to one another before Elizabeth spoke. “I thought our Aunt Gardiner had spoken to you.”
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