Fitzwilliam Darcy

by Cressida Lane

  * * *

  J. Weatherby, Esq.

  * * *

  My dearest Lizzy,

  I can hardly still my hand enough to write you this letter, but I have news to share which will not wait another moment.

  Mr. Bingley has proposed!

  We have been much thrown together since you left Hertfordshire, despite his sisters’ leaving for London. I begin to think our friends and neighbors may have conspired to see us made a match, but I cannot find it within me to mind. Perhaps I shall thank them all at the wedding.

  You will laugh when next you see me, Lizzy, for I feel it must show on my face every hour of the day. How can anyone bear so much happiness?

  Mama is beside herself; there has been much preparation made. Once the banns are read, the wedding will be held a fortnight hence. I must beg you and my aunt and uncle to return to Longbourn to see us wed on the –th.

  I look forward to your coming, dearest sister. I shall endeavor to bear this joy until you are here to share it with me.

  Yours, etc.

  Jane

  * * *

  Both letters had obviously been delayed by the storm, which meant there would be no seeing Scotland or any more of the north country. The first, Elizabeth kept to herself. The second gave her pleasure to share.

  “How delightful!” said Mrs. Gardiner, on reading Jane’s letter.

  “Outstanding,” said Mr. Gardiner. “We’ll set out immediately.”

  “You don’t mind cancelling the rest of our tour?” Elizabeth asked them. It was possible Jane had not received the letters Elizabeth had written in the last couple of weeks; she may not know they’d been held up by the snow.

  “Of course we don’t mind,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “How could we mind, when there is so happy a reason to return?”

  “If we leave straight away, we should arrive in plenty of time for the wedding,” said Mr. Gardiner.

  Thus the arrangements were made. Mrs. Charleton was sorry to see them go, though they’d planned to leave today regardless. Certainly she’d miss her sister’s company, but she worried more on Henry’s part. He’d been withdrawn at the ball last night, and again this morning.

  Henry Charleton was not sorry to see them go; it spared him any further embarrassment, for he liked Elizabeth Bennet too well to conduct himself as anything other than a man on the verge of being in love. Their return to Hertfordshire meant there would be no additional visits, and no further risk of exposing himself.

  Once underway several days passed amiably enough, insofar as Elizabeth knew. She was scarcely present, though she endeavored to show no sign of her distraction. The scenery was often the topic of conversation, much as it had been on their travel northbound; this time, the beauty they’d remarked was painted white by the snow.

  “We should try again this summer,” said Mr. Gardiner at one particularly fine prospect. “Edinburgh is lovely in summer.”

  Mrs. Gardiner’s suspicions weighed on her, and she did not encourage her husband in the idea. Elizabeth’s uncharacteristic reticence and her nephew’s withdrawal at the culmination of their trip might suggest the two were lovers parted by circumstance, but Mrs. Gardiner had witnessed the churlish manner and hasty exit of the Earl Saturday evening; it suggested to her the truth of the matter lay elsewhere.

  “I think we must be well into Derbyshire by now,” said Elizabeth’s uncle much later that day.

  “I think you are right,” said Mrs. Gardiner. Observing the change in Elizabeth’s pallor, she said, “What do you say we stop at Lambton for the night?” She did not mention the earl, nor Pemberley, nor did she suggest calling on their nearby acquaintance. If Mr. Gardiner suggested it, Mrs. Gardiner would impress upon him the urgency of their travel, the happy event that awaited them in Hertfordshire, and that it would be rude to importune such important people for so very short a visit.

  Fortunately, Mr. Gardiner made no such remark. He agreed heartily, however, that a stop in Lambton was just the thing, for the inn there boasted a cook with a reputation for venison stew and he was feeling rather peckish.

  Elizabeth was grateful to her aunt for the reprieve, and that nobody once uttered the name ‘Matlock’. She’d made up her mind to forget the man altogether, as much as she was able to put him out of her heart. This brief stay so near him, and yet not near him at all would provide her time enough to lay thoughts of him aside.

  The venison stew was all Mr. Gardiner could have hoped. The dining hall at the inn was crowded with travelers and locals alike and Elizabeth was grateful for the din. It prevented any delicate conversation during the meal. The food and drink were restorative and as they finished Elizabeth began to feel something healing; at any rate, her heart hurt a little less.

  Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner appeared to be in heated debate across the table – Elizabeth could not hear them. She let her gaze wander over the room, making note of the most interesting travelers with which to entertain her sisters later on, when she spied a familiar face in the crowd.

  Though the face was quickly covered by the hood of her cloak, Elizabeth could not mistake the distinctive features of Miss Anne de Bourgh.

  When last they’d spoken, Anne had been tucked away at Pemberley to help Miss Darcy recover from her ordeal in London at the hands of the vile George Wickham. Elizabeth suspected she was also standing guard to make absolutely certain that Miss Darcy did not pursue that man, whether to exact justice upon him nor for any other reason. The dark, heavy cloak she now wore suggested Anne did not wish to be seen.

  What business could Miss Anne de Bourgh have at the inn at this hour?

  Elizabeth watched the other woman ease her way across the dining hall. She made a fast excuse to her aunt and uncle and bade them good night, keeping her gaze trained on Anne. Elizabeth knew not what business she might be attending, but she would ask it of the woman herself. If nothing else, a friendly face would do her some good just now.

  Elizabeth wove through the crowd as Anne slipped out a small door at the back of the room. She wished mightily for her own cloak when a moment later, she discovered the small door lead to a small alley at the rear of the inn. Wrapping her hands around her arms, Elizabeth walked quickly, almost running to the end of the alley where it opened up to the street. Sunset had been hours ago; it would not be prudent for her to remain out here alone much longer. Even as the thought occurred to her, she caught a glimpse of a black cloak disappearing around a corner three buildings down.

  She followed. If Anne was out at this hour, in this weather and alone, she might need help. In any event, it was better than returning to her room to be alone with her own thoughts.

  Elizabeth turned the same corner where she’d seen the cloak disappear, down another alley; this one approached a large stable. The cloak she’d seen did indeed belong to Anne; the woman was standing two stalls over. Elizabeth started to call out to her, to alert the other woman to her presence, but her voice caught on a gasp when a man walked out of the stall.

  He seemed enormous in the dark – tall and bearded and thick with brawn. He wore no coat; Elizabeth had the ridiculous impression that he must live here in the stables.

  Elizabeth drew in a breath to scream for help as the burly man took three long, fast strides towards Anne. He seized her about the waist and hauled the woman, tiny in comparison, up to him and kissed her as though his heart was breaking.

  Elizabeth’s own heart turned in her chest at the thought of such passion, such love, and at the thought of one man who would not give her either one.

  Anne was not in need of help, and there would be no friendly conversation tonight. Without a word, Elizabeth backed away as quietly as she could – though she doubted the couple noticed much of anything just now – and made her way back to the inn. She found her room and sat next to the fire.

  She told no one of what she’d seen but the memory of it was logged, an indelible entry in her memory as something she could not have.

  Chapter 24

  �
�Oh, brother, you are just in the very nick of time!” cried Mrs. Bennet a few days later. The rest of Elizabeth’s family gathered near the carriage to greet the weary travellers.

  “The wedding’s not for another two days, sister. All will be well,” said Mr. Gardiner, well accustomed to his sister’s idiosyncrasies.

  “Yes, yes, but you must help me,” she continued, taking his arm, the details of some vexing task already spilling forth.

  Mr. Bennet was not a man easily given to affection but Elizabeth had always held the larger portion of her father’s heart, and on their greeting, he hugged her.

  “I am glad you’re come back, Lizzy,” he said. “Wedding plans have taken over the entire household. I’ve had not a word of sense from anybody since Jane said ‘yes’.”

  Elizabeth laughed.

  “It’s good to be home,” she said, with no small feeling. “But where is Jane?”

  “She’s off on some errand with Mr. Bingley’s sisters,” replied Mr. Bennet. “Wedding fripperies, dresses and fabrics. I’m up to my neck in it. When you’ve had a moment to rest, come walk with me in the garden, will you? I want to hear all about Mr. and Mrs. Charleton, for we have never met and given Mrs. Gardiner’s inestimable good sense, I’ve imagined they must have retained all the bad.”

  “Of course I’ll walk with you,” she said, smiling. “Although I’ve nothing but good things to report from that quarter.”

  “Then what possible use are you to me?” he asked. “What is the purpose of travelling so far to meet new people if one cannot abuse them properly on returning home again? Nevermind, then, girl. Go see your sisters. We’ll talk after all this wedding business is passed, assuming we all survive it.” Mr. Bennet began to return to the house, when something occurred to him. He turned back.

  “Elizabeth, I think perhaps I ought to warn you,” he said, banked amusement written all over his countenance. “Mrs. Bennet is rather put out with you for losing the eye of the Earl of Matlock. She has declared herself determined never to speak to you again, which as you know means you’d best be on guard. She’ll accost you at the first opportunity, I am sure of it.”

  “Ah,” said Elizabeth sadly. “Thank you for the warning, papa. I’ll find her and apologize again.”

  “You’ve nothing to apologize for, child,” he said, his earlier amusement gone. “Your feelings are yours, and you of all my children know better than to let them be swayed by something so silly as a title.” His humor returned. Much like Elizabeth’s, it couldn’t be dampened for long. “Besides, he’s only an earl. You ought to remind your mother you’re holding out for a duke.”

  “Go on, then,” said Elizabeth, laughing again.

  Mrs. Bennet must have been cross indeed. Elizabeth and the Gardiners had been at Longbourn half a day and she’d not yet had a single word from her mother, except a request to pass the salt at luncheon, and even that was spoken most begrudgingly for no one else at the table would oblige her.

  Jane returned home after dining with the Bingleys that evening. Coming into the sitting room where everyone was playing cards, she hugged Elizabeth tightly in greeting.

  “Oh, Lizzy, I am so, so happy to see you,” she said.

  “I missed you, sister mine,” said Elizabeth. As Jane stepped back, she added with a smile, “But I rather think you’d be happy just now seeing me or not.”

  “I am glad not to have to test your theory at present,” said Jane, beaming. “I confess, I think I am the happiest woman in the world.”

  “As you should be, for there’s not a soul breathing who deserves it more than you,” said Elizabeth.

  “But what is the matter?” asked Jane. “I know you like to tease me, Lizzy, but you seem sad. What is wrong?”

  The rest of the room carried on with their talking and card-playing. No one paid the sisters any heed, but the slightest hint of trouble and Lydia’s ears would perk.

  “Nothing at all, dear,” said Elizabeth.

  “I expect you’re tired from your trip,” said Jane, nodding. She gave Elizabeth a pointed look.

  “Of course,” said Elizabeth. She whispered, “I’m fine. We’ll talk later.”

  As they rejoined the others, it occurred to Elizabeth that she and Jane may not have time later to speak at all. The wedding was two days hence, and there was still much to be done.

  “Lizzy, there you are,” said Lydia, as though Elizabeth had not occupied the same room for nearly half an hour. “Mr. Collins arrives tomorrow. I do hope you’ve prepared yourself.” Kitty tittered; Mary sniffed from behind her book.

  “How do you mean, Lydia?”

  “He’s quite cross with you,” said Kitty. “Father’s had three letters from him since you left for Newcastle.”

  “It’s true,” said Mr. Bennet. “The grandiloquent Mr. Collins has volumes to convey on any subject.”

  “I suppose it’s too much to hope that this grandiloquence was not spent on my connection with the Earl of Matlock,” said Elizabeth quietly to her father.

  “Oh, yes,” said Lydia. “He’s got loads to say about you and his lordship.”

  “Do not trouble yourself about the letters, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet without lowering his papers. “I daresay the man will save you the trouble of reading them and expend himself to the task of acquainting you with their contents when he arrives tomorrow.”

  * * *

  The house was abuzz with activity after breakfast the next morning. Mr. Collins had not yet arrived but Mr. Bingley’s sisters were already in attendance, ostensibly to lend hands to ceremony preparation. Elizabeth discovered Miss Bingley’s true motives for coming soon enough.

  “Miss Eliza Bennet,” cried Miss Bingley as the sisters sat. “How changed you are since I saw you last so many weeks ago.”

  “It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth.

  “I hear you met with our mutual friend during your travels,” said Miss Bingley.

  “If you mean the earl,” said Elizabeth, concealing any reaction. “Yes, we met him in Derbyshire. He joined us for part of our trip.”

  “And then you were bound up in that awful storm,” said Miss Bingley, shaking her head at theatrically. “How very dreadful for you both.”

  “It was an adventure, to be sure,” said Elizabeth. Clearly Miss Bingley had something particular point to press. She’d not bother engaging Elizabeth in conversation otherwise.

  “I know all about it, you see,” said Miss Bingley. She watched Elizabeth carefully as she spoke. “He’s been at Netherfield all week, you know. Matlock, I mean. I can’t imagine what drove him from Newcastle with such haste, but I’m so very glad it did.” She laughed. Elizabeth smiled without feeling.

  “In any case,” continued Miss Bingley, lowering her voice. “I shall tell you, because we are such very good friends and I know I may rely on your strictest confidence. Once your sister’s happiness is secured tomorrow, I have good reason to believe my own will soon follow!”

  Elizabeth was spared giving an immediate reply by a noisy argument erupting between Lydia and Kitty at the far side of the room. Miss Bingley turned to look and sneered her distaste at the young women, attempting to conceal her reaction with a smile as she turned back to Elizabeth.

  “You understand me, don’t you Miss Eliza?”

  “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth. To speak the lie required all the composure at her disposal. “I’m glad to hear of any felicity that finds you, but I know nothing of the specifics in this case.”

  Miss Bingley leaned in, her voice now nearly a whisper. “I can appreciate your delicacy in the matter, truly I can. I shall not speak of it in company until the news is published, but you and I have always been such good friends, I cannot conceal it from you. I have reason to believe Matlock – that is, our friend Darcy – intends to make me an offer!”

  To Elizabeth’s mind, the intervening moments were dolorous and slow in their passing. She noted from a d
istance the triumph on Miss Bingley’s face, her exultation mounting at whatever she saw in Elizabeth’s own countenance. Elizabeth forced an approximation of a smile as Miss Bingley resumed her seat and began talking of Bingley’s intended wedding attire in normal tones.

  Elizabeth heard not a word. She was too late. She ought to have been more forthcoming; she ought to have told Darcy the truth about Henry Charleton, that he’d been no more to her than pleasant company. She ought to have told him when she was free to do so that there was no room in her heart for any other man, not when it every moment wished for Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  Chapter 25

  Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst left a short time later, supposedly answering a summons from their brother. Elizabeth saw no such summons but she did not speak against their going, for there was nothing in the world she’d like better than to be out of their company.

  Elizabeth tried not to savage the flower in her hand as she began binding it into a bouquet with the rest, completing the task despite the numbness in her fingers. Lydia and Kitty were making a mess of the job but Elizabeth lacked the energy to scold them. She had no desire to remove herself from the room, for their nigh constant bickering required no participation from herself; she could be alone with her thoughts here.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” came a soft voice from the door. “There’s a gentleman here to see you. I’ve informed Mrs. Bennet, but she declares she won’t come and that you’ll have to see to him yourself.”

  “A gentleman,” said Lydia. “Ooooh, Lizzy. Have you got another beau then?” She and Kitty giggled.

  Darcy. Hill did not speak his name and Elizabeth did not ask. The flowers in her hand fell to the table as she rose from her seat. She followed the servant down the hall leaving Lydia and Kitty to laugh without her.

  “Mr. Wickham for you, Miss Bennet,” said Hill as Elizabeth walked through the sitting room door.