by Anne Morris
"I am not a horsewoman," said Elizabeth, so he placed her in front of him in order to expedite their trip to Bishopsgate.
Thirty-Two
—
Finale
Lydia threw open the door to their knock. "Lizzy!" she cried and dragged her sister inside. "What has happened? You must tell me all!" She then saw Mr. Darcy behind Elizabeth. "Is she safe?" Mr. Darcy inclined his head. Mrs. Gardiner came to the entrance then.
"I will dutifully return in the morning, Mrs. Gardiner, but I need to go home and see to my sister," his face and the tone of his voice spoke of his sincerity and of the intensity of the situation. Mrs. Gardiner inclined her own head, Mr. Darcy nodded and departed.
Aunt Gardiner turned to her niece. "Dry clothes, Lizzy."
Lydia was, of course, all aflutter and wide-eyed about the entire situation, and Mrs. Gardiner hardly less so, but she realized from the bruised look on Elizabeth's face that there was more to this tale than simply having prevented Miss Darcy from fleeing to Gretna Green and marrying a scoundrel, as Lydia had related when she had returned from the Frost Fair with a protesting Anna and without Elizabeth.
"It has been quite a day," said Elizabeth barely above a whisper.
A bath had been anticipated, hot water a perversity after having been in the rain for hours. She did not sit long in her bath, only long enough to warm her limbs, but with the warmth came tears. Tears for Henry, in realizing his final fate. She dried herself off then she sat in front of a fire, felt the glow radiating from the coals, felt the warmth on her skin bringing her back to life, back to herself, the present. There was a candelabrum beside her, Elizabeth stared at the flickering flame, and thought about what Mr. Wickham had said, and what Mr. Darcy had done.
Mr. Darcy had been seeking information about Henry Mandeville. She recalled their conversation on that magnificent staircase at Pemberley about Trafalgar. He had been clever enough to discover who Simon's father was, and had gone so far as to seek information about Henry Mandeville's fate. He knew, somehow, how much that had weighed on her mind; he had done it for her. She cried in her bath because Henry was gone, and because of the evil manner of his death, but now she sat and cried in her chair. Elizabeth cried because Mr. Darcy loved her. It was like seeing a light at the end of a tunnel.
Mrs. Gardiner brought a supper tray to her. "So Lizzy, do I need to have Mr. Gardiner go visit Mr. Darcy and ask him about his intentions to you?" It was, however, said with a smile.
"I do not believe you need to worry about that aunt, there is likely to be good news," she did not realize that her aunt could raise only one eyebrow so high, but there it was quizzing her.
"He asked me to marry him once before, and I turned him down," Elizabeth began.
"Lizzy!" Her aunt's judgment of such an response was evident in her tone.
"I had many reasons at the time to think ill of him, but I have since changed my mind. You have encouraged me to consider loving again and for that, aunt, I will be forever grateful. Though I have questioned whether it would be fair to a husband to enter into such an arrangement because of my past, if my secret ever came out, it would ruin my marriage, be an issue of trust, damage it beyond repair."
"You are a wise woman, my dear; I had not considered that fact," said Mrs. Gardiner.
"But I believe I love Mr. Darcy, and I do not fear anything by marrying him."
"And so Lydia tells me there has been an attempted elopement, and you went off to prevent his sister making a fool of herself," prompted her aunt.
"Yes, and unfortunately the ice and the rain made us late."
"Well, we shall hope that Mr. Darcy does offer for you, and your Uncle Gardiner does not have to step in," replied her aunt as she left with the tray.
Lydia made an appearance and wished to know all about Elizabeth's adventures. "What of Georgiana?" she pressed.
"She had apparently turned back," the groom had said the crowds and weather had made Georgiana falter and return to her carriage, though she did not share that fact with Lydia.
"It was all for naught. I sent you on a fool's errand!" cried Lydia.
"Yes, it was a fool's errand, but I would have gone anyway, just to be sure," said Elizabeth, "and I thank you for sending Mr. Darcy's groom to him."
"And what of Wickham?" asked Lydia.
"I do not know what happened to him. It was late, and so very dark at the end; I did not see Mr. Wickham leave. Mr. Darcy's groom helped me off of the ice and onto land," answered Elizabeth. "I did not ask Mr. Darcy where Mr. Wickham went. He had stayed on the ice to speak to Mr. Wickham, and I feared they quarreled." Lydia was content with that, and exhausted, they all went to bed.
• • •
Georgiana was holed up in her room; her body, mind, and spirit had all been crushed by her day at the Frost Fair. She had been devastated with the betrayal of Lydia having secured Mr. Wickham, and who was, no doubt, far beyond the boundaries of London and on her way to Gretna Green.
She wept again at being such a fool that she had been unable to negotiate the crowds by herself. She wondered that she had not been able to find enough strength within herself to walk in that jostling, pulsating mass of people without panicking. It had been such a far cry from the drawing rooms and well-mannered people with whom she normally associated. It had been a staggering experience, humbling. Then to have discovered that someone, some thief, had taken her reticule so she could not even pay to leave the Fair, that had made her lose herself entirely. Partridge, thankfully, had the pennies to tip the watermen so they could leave, and he lent her the strength of his arm to get her to the still-waiting carriage, and he took her home to Darcy House.
She had expected, when her brother knocked on her bedroom door and identified himself, that he would call her down to the Library to speak to her, but in an act uncharacteristic of Fitzwilliam, he asked if they could not speak there in her sitting room. He had never been an affectionate brother, but he took her by the hand and led her to sit on one of the chairs.
"Dearest," he began, while he seated her with a small smile.
She began to cry then, thinking he was about to scold her about all of her mistakes—going to the Frost Fair, dismissing Partridge, seeking to elope with George Wickham—but he sat next to her, still with her hand held in his.
"I have an apology that has long been overdue." Her brother's voice was different, and she sniffed and wiped at her tears since what he said was so unexpected.
"I believe I have not been the best brother that I could. I have been a guardian, that is true, but I have largely left your care to Mrs. Younge, and in Mrs. Younge—I discovered today—I made a poor choice as far as companion to you." Her tears, which she had blinked back to a trickle, became a torrent then. Fitzwilliam squeezed her hand. "However, that is no fault of yours, and the blame lies entirely with me. I believe you have been seeking an affection I simply did not provide. I am sorry that your family life was not what it should have been, and again, that is my fault. I am indebted to Mrs. Younge, in a small way, for bringing this to light, and sending me after you, though she will be leaving us in the next day or two."
Georgiana cried all the more, and brought her free hand to cover her eyes, but still, Fitzwilliam kept possession of her other hand.
"I am indebted to her for directing me to the Frost Fair to ensure you were safe. And also to ensure that Miss Elizabeth was returned safely to her home as well."
"Miss Elizabeth!" Georgiana brought her free hand down to look at him then in confusion.
"As soon as Miss Bennet discovered that you intended to run away, she ran after you with the intention of preventing it, with only your safety and your reputation in mind, thinking nothing of her own," her brother had a smile on his face, wider now, and his eyes were bright, despite the severe topic.
"I thought it was Lydia, that Lydia had betrayed me; that she was running away with George!" she scrunched her face up in a mixture of anger, confusion, and heartache.
; "Miss Lydia was so worried about your plans with Wickham that she shared those concerns with her older sister, despite the fact that you had asked her to keep your secret." He frowned a little then, looking more like his old self. "While I understand the need to have secrets, I need to explain the evil that is George Wickham." Her brother squeezed her hand rather hard then, before he let it go, settling back a little in his chair. He reminded Georgiana of their father then, with his actions.
He looked at her with a smile, his eyes showing his concern and yet his affection for her, and he told her of his history with George Wickham and of every evil thing Wickham had done. Georgiana was too stunned to cry anymore.
"He only wanted to marry you for the money; he probably would have abandoned you once he had secured it, and you would have been ruined. Miss Bennet knew these points, which is why she ran after you, and I believe even her sister Lydia had come to understand his true nature instinctively, which is why she told Elizabeth."
Georgiana's throat felt as if it was closing up, as she sat and listened to her brother, and she brought her fingers to her mouth to bite on the tip, to feel the pain as if to assure herself she was still awake and alive.
She had been so wrong about Wickham and her friend Lydia, and even about her ability to be out in a crowd of people outside of her own sphere. There was a lot she had to learn about the ways of the world. Her stomach cramped up, churning, then tears came again, and she covered her face with her hands and wept copiously for all her mistakes.
He took her in his arms then, which he had never done before, while she cried. She had not the benefit of her companion to speak to that night, to confide in; Georgiana had no one then, but her brother, but Fitzwilliam did not leave her side.
• • •
A northerly wind brought with it a profusion of rain, and it continued unabated all through the morning, yet Mr. Darcy presented himself at the Gardiner's house the next morning and asked for a private interview with Miss Bennet. Lydia had a thousand questions to ask him about her friend, but Mrs. Gardiner led her young niece away leaving Elizabeth alone with Mr. Darcy in the parlor.
"And how is Miss Darcy?" asked Elizabeth as she settled herself on the sofa, and he took a chair opposite her.
"As well as can be expected," he replied, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and even some tinge, some signs of redness there, that indicated her night had not been easy. "She has ever been a trusting and confident creature, and though her experiences yesterday amounted to little more than being lost in a crowd, and being scared because of the press of so many people, I fear there is more to it." His eyes looked past her to some knickknack beyond. "She was looking for admiration and affection outside of the family, and I was greatly at fault for that error as her brother. I was not providing her the affection and attention I should have. She has, in some ways, always been seeking a substitute."
He took in a breath and sought out her eyes. Elizabeth gave him an encouraging smile, and he continued. "Georgiana does not recall our mother, but she does have fond memories of our father, and so her admiration for the officers, or of any gentleman has some explanation, though I hesitate to call Wickham a gentleman. She was seeking an affection I did not give her." His hand moved slightly on the chair arm.
"I hope this experience does not make her too shy and self-conscious. My choice was very wrong in Mrs. Younge as a companion for her, it turns out that lady had connections with Wickham, though I also owe the rescue of both Georgiana, and of you, the knowledge of this whole folly to Mrs. Younge because she came to me out of her own fears of Wickham and his schemes."
Sorrow lined his face, and Elizabeth felt compassionate and wished to move from her seat to comfort him, but knew to do so would interrupt his speech. "Georgiana will recover in time, but I fear she will be suspicious of others for quite a while. She may not be in such a rush to have her come-out. We were staying in London and discussing such things with my aunt, but we may wait until the following spring now," he explained.
"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry, that this has been such a dreadful chapter in her life" replied Elizabeth, her heart overflowing with sympathy and sorrow, "and I hope she can grow beyond it. They are bendable creatures but they do not break, girls of this age, and they do come through these trials. I can tell you that for a fact, that they live through what can be such trying and difficult times and come out all the better for it." A single tear escaped then. "I must tell you, I must thank you for all you have done for me, Mr. Darcy." Her eyes spoke of her gratitude and love probably more than her words did, but she carried on.
"I know that you were seeking to understand Henry's fate, perhaps you understood me better than I understood myself— that I required information about his ultimate fate. We all knew he was dead, but to know what really occurred, though it was such an awful ending, has been of comfort," more tears followed the first one. "That you took the time, and the expense to do so, has meant everything to me," she wiped at her eyes.
"I did it for you, for the love of you, Elizabeth Bennet," he paused, shifted in his chair, his eyes never left hers, "I would ask you again if you would honor me with becoming my wife."
"Yes, Mr. Darcy, I will marry you." His face, which he had schooled to be that mask, lit up then with happiness, showing her how valuable she was to him simply with his expression.
"I was an arrogant man before I met you, and you taught me to love. I only took the time to associate with people when I thought it would be worth my while. It was as if I was only a simple tradesman, and I would only deign to give somebody my time or attention if I thought that there was something to be gained by my doing so. I think that I even thought that such was true of being a brother to my sister, which I discovered to my unfortunate horror. But it was you who taught me with your rejection of my proposal, and your rejection even of my kiss," and a blush spread on both their cheeks then, "you taught me how much I needed to learn. Even yesterday I could hold you up as an example. When your sister Lydia told you about Georgiana's intentions, it was not something you dismissed as not being a concern to you, you did not turn your back to the situation as one which did not benefit you, but you went to confront Wickham, and to retrieve my sister."
"I am sure if it was my sister Lydia who was eloping with Mr. Wickham, and our roles were reversed, you would have done the same," she replied. He had his doubts as to his own motivations, in such a situation, but he did not say so to his betrothed.
He stood, moving from his place on his chair to stand in front of her. She thought he might sit next to her on the sofa, but instead he fell to his knees in front of her. His eyes were a little lower than hers in that position and, for once, she did not have to incline her neck and chin to look up to him. He reached out to clasp a hand in his.
"I want you to understand that I want to marry you because I love you, Elizabeth, and I will cherish every moment you are by my side," he brought her hand up to his lips to kiss it, and then pressed it to his cheek, a smile growing on his lips where her hand lay. Elizabeth brought her other hand up to touch the other side of his face, and that side of his mouth rose also in response to her touch.
"I love you, Mr. Darcy," she said. "It has been growing, fluttering within me for a while, but it has been many months since I determined you are the only man I could ever love." He gazed at her, his hand still holding her own, and though part of him wondered with a touch of sorrow why he had not acted sooner, yet joy was his overriding emotion, and he moved then to lay his head in her lap.
"You are my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, and I am certain that I do not deserve you," he said; she reached tentative hands out to stroke his hair.
When he straightened up, his hands moved to her shoulder,s and he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers for a hesitant kiss. His arms reached with more confidence around to hold her to him. There was no slap, no retort, and the kiss morphed into one of the thousand that he had imagined over the last twelve months. His fingers traced the
planes of her cheeks imprinting them into memory.
"I look forward to many more of those," she said.
He moved up next to her on the sofa and took her more tightly into his arms, but there was a knock on the door.
"Lizzy, Mr. Darcy should you like some tea?" called a voice through the door. It was Aunt Gardiner's gentle way of inquiring about the rather long tete-a-tete between the two of them. He clasped her hand in his and stretched his legs out in front of him.
"I should return to Darcy House and see to Georgiana," he replied with his eyes still lost in hers.
"Yes, and I need to return to Longbourn," said Elizabeth.
"What?" cried Darcy in alarm, pulling his feet in to look with concern at her.
"If I allow my mother to come to London, it would be months before this wedding took place, and she would do her best to attempt to figure out how to invite the Prince Regent himself if she could," she explained.
The door cracked open, and Mrs. Gardiner peeked in. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Gardiner without a single bit of embarrassment or shame with their hands entwined and sitting on the sofa next to each other.
"Tea?" was her single word query, though it was not really about the beverage.
"No, I should be going. Is Mr. Gardiner home?" asked Darcy of his hostess.
"Yes, he is in his study," replied Mrs. Gardiner.
"I should speak to him before I go," said Mr. Darcy.
That single eyebrow said a lot of Aunt Gardiner.
• • •
Wickham's body, along with two other drunken revelers who had also slipped from the ice and fallen into the Thames, was recovered on Monday as the ice continued to split into great scales as that northern wind brought rain and warmer weather, and broke up the ice. The intervening Sunday a few brave souls had attempted to continue with the frivolity and vice of the Fair, but it was obvious to most that the fun was at an end. The merchants, entertainers, craftsmen, brewers, and entrepreneurs scrambled to retrieve whatever they had hauled onto the ice before it changed its form from Jack Frost back to Old Man Thames, once again rushing up and down between the two banks, as the tide returned to its normal activity, and as ships laden with goods chugged once again up to the new London Docks, as smaller merchants moved items upstream, and as the watermen went back to their trade of rowing people from one bank to another.