When they reached the inn, her aunt and uncle beckoned Elizabeth to join them in the public sitting room. It was empty and the fire was down to embers. Wine was ordered and delivered, and the fire revived.
“Elizabeth,” Mrs Gardiner began, “it is obvious to your uncle and me that Mr Bingley is not the only gentleman at Pemberley who is in love. That Mr Darcy regards you with fond admiration has been clear since we arrived in the neighbourhood. Is there something you would like to tell us? Is there some understanding between you?”
Her aunt watched in gentle wonder as tears formed and silently spilled from her niece’s eyes. Mr Gardiner produced a handkerchief, and when she could, Elizabeth responded, “I am sorry to be so foolish. I own it will be a relief to speak of it. Only Jane knows of this matter, but not all of it. I first learnt Mr Darcy had formed an attachment to me when I stayed with Charlotte in Hunsford and he was visiting his aunt at Rosings Park for Easter. You will think I am delusional, but the truth of it is, he proposed to me — there in Charlotte’s little parlour — and I was completely shocked. I refused him.” She shook her head. “I was caught utterly unawares. I thought he and I had resolved not to like each other.
“In a roundabout way, I had my suspicions confirmed earlier that same day, that he had played a principal role in separating Jane from Mr Bingley, and…oh, I am ashamed to speak of it, but my contempt rained upon him. His proposal was” — she paused to find the right word — “inelegant. He spoke at length of my lack of connections and the folly of my mother and sisters — not Jane, of course, but Mary, Kitty and Lydia. He said his admiration for me — perhaps he used the word desire — overcame his scruples, but he scarcely mentioned love nor did he compliment me in any way. But no matter what he might have said, once he did not deny or even defend, his treatment of Jane, I poured my venom upon him most copiously.” She sniffled a moment then went on. “Without restraint, I eviscerated his character, enumerating every flaw I found there. Poor, poor man…”
The Gardiners looked at each other and waited for Elizabeth to continue. After drawing a deep breath, their niece explained the text of Darcy’s letter and its effect upon her. “I did not know myself until I read his words. He explained his actions in the matter of Jane and Bingley very ill — although he and I both understand his actions better now — but in every other particular, I saw I had misread him.
“This is why I was so careful to determine whether or not he would be at Pemberley before consenting to a tour. I was certain he would cut me or believe I had come for some nefarious reason. Had we been told the family was in residence, I would have explained my difficult dealings with him. But we went…and there he appeared! And so changed. At first I could not accept that he would even be civil, but when he was more than civil — when he asked me to meet his sister and was so kind to you — I knew not what to think.”
Her uncle asked kindly, “You did not? Surely you saw that he still has feelings for you?”
“How could he?” Elizabeth cried. “You have no idea the hiding I gave him. Even had I been more moderate in my choice of words, it was still a refusal.” She took a swallow of wine and several deep breaths.
“Lizzy.” Her uncle leaned forward and patted her hand. “He still loves you. I’d bet my future on it.”
Her aunt nodded in agreement. “It is obvious; his improvements have been made because he thought your accusations just. Now that you have stumbled into his sphere again, he gives every indication of wanting you to know he has taken your words to heart and still cares for you.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “He may still care and he has improved, but how could a man with such pride as he possesses possibly lower himself to renew his addresses where they were so ruinously met before? I cannot comprehend it.” She shook her head again. “Indeed, I cannot.”
“That,” her aunt whispered, “is the depth of his love, Lizzy. He is restoring Bingley to Jane, both for his friend’s sake and to please you. We are certain of it.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, in that I believe you are right. He wants to be forgiven, but I believe it is because, in truth, he is a good man. He does not want anyone, anywhere, thinking ill of him.”
Her uncle caught her eye. “Least of all you.”
After a few moments of silence, Mrs Gardiner asked, “May we take it as a given that you would not refuse him a second time?”
Elizabeth blushed deeply and looked down at the glass of wine in her hand. “I do not know,” she murmured.
Mrs Gardiner took Elizabeth’s hand in hers and tried to meet her eye. “When did you fall in love with him?”
Elizabeth’s liquid eyes flew to her aunt’s face with the utmost alarm and then looked away. “I do not know! I do not know what I feel! I do not understand myself at all. If only Jane were here, she would explain me to myself…”
“I think I can tell you, my love, what your dear sister would say. She knows what it is to love. She would say that you are indeed in love at last.”
Elizabeth started to cry again, and Mr Gardiner decided it was quite time to excuse himself. Elizabeth had sunk from her chair and was sitting on the floor, crying into her aunt’s knees as she had done as a child. Mr Gardiner leaned over and kissed his wife’s forehead. “I know you will sort this out, my dear. Take as long as you need.” Madeline smiled and nodded.
“Lizzy?” Mr Gardiner gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Your aunt is very wise, is she not?”
Elizabeth started to smile and gave a meek nod. She was reminded of prior times when staying with the Gardiners in London and she felt vexed or frustrated. She was now one and twenty, not ten or eleven, and yet she felt just the same.
“There’s my girl. There is that beautiful smile. If you will smile just so for Mr Darcy, he cannot fail to propose again. Mr Bingley will not be the only one writing to your father. Good night, darling girl.”
Smiling, Mr Gardiner took himself to bed.
“Now, sit beside me, Lizzy, or I shall have to write your father and tell him he has four silly daughters instead of only three.”
Elizabeth stood and smoothed her gown, momentarily irked that she had set wrinkles into it.
“Oh, Aunt,” she said, dropping onto the settee where her uncle had been. “I suppose I may be in love, but how do I know? When I first saw him again at Pemberley, my chest seemed to collapse; I could barely breathe. It was a most unpleasant sensation. But now it happens every time I see him, and it takes several minutes to compose myself. My heart beats so vigorously I feel my cross bounce upon my chest. I feel as if everyone can see it.”
Mrs Gardiner put her arm around her niece’s shoulder. “You only think that. For the most part, you have behaved very well — quite sensibly apart from the near-continuous blushing. However, Mr Darcy does not see you are in love with him. He is excessively worried you do not even like him.”
“You are teasing me, Aunt.”
“Yes, but that does not mean you should doubt me. What was all that business at dinner about lavender?”
“It is the scent I wear. He was letting me know he recognizes it. He was teasing me, too.”
“He was letting you know, Lizzy, that he is still in love with you. Did he not say he is fonder of the scent now than in April? What more can he do? He is begging you to encourage him.”
Elizabeth sat up to look at her aunt’s face. “Tell me honestly. Do not answer as my dear aunt, but try to be impartial. Could he possibly think of renewing his addresses?”
“If you smiled at him with the warmth I see in your eyes right now, I do not think he could stop himself.”
“Charlotte always said a lady should show more affection than she feels to secure a gentleman’s regard. Were I to show Mr Darcy more affection than I feel…well, I do not see how I could without being improper.” She said the words aloud for the first time, a revelation for herself and the world. “I love him.”
* * *
As the carriage bound for Lambton pulled away from Pember
ley, Georgiana returned to the house, and Bingley turned to meet Darcy’s anxious eyes. Darcy cocked his head to the left — the direction of his study — and raised his eyebrows. Bingley responded with a curt nod; he had much to ask his friend and imagined they might converse over Darcy’s excellent brandy until well into the night.
Bingley preceded Darcy into the room.
“Fitzwilliam! Brother!” Georgiana hailed from the foot of the stairway.
Darcy halted and she ran to him. “I would speak with you, Brother. I have several questions, and they deserve answers.”
“Bingley is waiting. His questions, I am afraid, are more pressing than yours. Let us breakfast together in the morning. Will that suit?”
Georgiana glared at her brother, just stopping herself from stamping a petulant foot. “What choice do I have? I will arrange for breakfast in my sitting room, shall I?”
“That will suit me admirably. I fear our breakfast room will host the battle of the Bingleys in the morning.” Darcy kissed his sister’s forehead absently and disappeared into his study. Just after closing the door, he immediately opened it again and walked back into the hall. Georgiana was at the top of the stairs, and he called after her. “Georgie, gosling, it occurs to me your questions will run in a similar bent to Bingley’s. You are my friend as much as he, so I think I should treat you as more than merely my little sister. Will you join us?”
Georgiana’s countenance transformed from annoyance to pleasure as she returned and followed him into the study.
“Bingley,” Darcy said, as they entered, “do not think I am bringing Georgiana here to cause you to temper your completely justifiable anger — far from it. You both have questions for me, and I suspect, in some cases, they are the same. To avoid repeating myself, I have asked her to join us.”
Georgiana was not shy in front of Bingley as she regarded him as almost another brother. “You need not censor yourselves on my account. I have certainly heard you give vent to ungentlemanly language upon occasion, Brother.”
Bingley nodded. “Well, Georgiana, if you’re going to join us, would you prefer a splash of brandy or a finger of port?”
“Bingley!” Darcy snorted.
“Port, please,” she responded. “I do not care much for brandy.”
Bingley laughed.
Darcy stared at her. “When have you had enough of either to form a preference?”
“At our Uncle Matlock’s. The ladies have port or brandy when they withdraw from the men, since that is what the men are taking.” Georgiana raised her eyebrows, daring him to rebuke her.
Darcy flopped into a chair with an exasperated sigh. “Insolent gosling. Some guardian of your delicate sensibilities I am…”
Bingley handed Georgiana a modest portion of port and a tumbler of brandy to Darcy, and they each took a sip in silence.
“I am going to make the Spanish Inquisition look like a garden party, Georgiana, but if there is some line of inquiry you believe deserves a more thorough exploration, I pray you, jump in with your own questions.”
Georgiana nodded to him with gracious condescension. “With your leave, Mr Bingley, I shall. Thank you.”
“Just get on with it…” Darcy muttered.
Everyone sat up straight as if by design, and Bingley began. “I believe the following question will get us to the heart of the matter, so to speak… Darcy, how long have you been in love with Elizabeth Bennet?”
Georgiana nodded her approval of Bingley’s tactics.
Darcy sighed. “I have been in love with Elizabeth Bennet for not much less time than you have been in love with Jane Bennet — perhaps as many as five days less but perhaps only five minutes. Maybe I did not know what it is to love until I had known her five months and was spurned in my addresses to her.”
“Ah.” Bingley nodded as if not at all surprised.
Georgiana, however, looked taken unawares. “Would you care to explain?”
“No,” Darcy responded, brusquely, “but I shall. I believe, Bingley, your attraction to Jane Bennet might be described as love at first sight? Or very near it?”
Bingley smiled. “Yes, I’d say that sums it up nicely.”
“I met Elizabeth, Georgiana, that same evening, and like a popinjay refused to dance with her, making idiotic comments, which she overheard. She laughed at me! She stood from her seat, went directly to her friend Mrs Collins and laughed at me. She stood across that damned assembly room and had a good joke at my expense. It was only then that I really studied her. She was taller than I thought and prettier than I thought and” — he glanced at his sister but continued — “had a better figure than I thought. She had a musical laugh, and it was directed at me!
“Then you danced with her, Bingley, and the look she gave me as the two of you skipped down the dance…” Darcy shook his head. “I shall never forget it. She was still laughing at me. I could have strangled her.”
“You had insulted her?” Georgiana asked her brother.
Bingley chuckled. “Oh, do tell her what you said, Darcy. I remember it if you do not. This is priceless, Georgiana — Darcy at his petulant best. I told him he should dance with her, and he did everything but lie on the ground kicking and screaming like a spoilt five-year-old.”
Darcy passed the back of his fingers over his lips glaring at them both.
“I’m waiting,” Georgiana said, primly folding her hands in her lap.
Darcy fidgeted in his seat. “I told Bingley she was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me, and I would not dance with a lady who had been slighted by other men. That is, more or less, the sum of it.”
Georgiana shook her head. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, I am ashamed of you. This is how you behave out in the world, away from Pemberley?”
“Indeed, that is every inch how he behaves. There were far too many ladies than gentlemen that night, and ladies who wanted to dance could not. I believe even Jane stood idle during my dance with Miss Elizabeth.”
“Must we dissect that evening so particularly?” Darcy asked.
“May I assume that when you had the earliest opportunity, you apologized to her? Once you understood fully that she had heard you?” Georgiana asked.
Bingley already knew the answer to this and started chuckling again.
Darcy looked down at his hands. “I am sorry to admit I have never apologized for those words in any specific way.”
Georgiana looked at Bingley and rolled her eyes, “Oh my, such lovely manners…do go on with your tale, Brother.”
“When we met the Bennet family again, it was at a party at Lucas Lodge. Elizabeth was in fine form. The militia had arrived, and she was witty and charming. We exchanged few words, but I found I could not take my eyes off her. She sang and played a little — very entertaining, as I told you in a letter, Georgie.”
His sister nodded.
“And finally, the most singular thing happened. Sir William Lucas and I were speaking of dancing, and Elizabeth passed by. Knowing her as I do now, I believe she was on her way to censure her sister Lydia who was carrying on in a most boisterous manner. Sir William took up Elizabeth’s hand and, insisting I dance with her, passed her hand to me. She snatched it away; she was vexed with him and tried to hide it, of course. I will say that I did, quite civilly I thought, ask her to dance, and she refused me. At heart, I was glad, as the dancing was very rag-tag, but to make amends for myself at the assembly, I would have danced with her. Looking back upon it, what I truly wanted was for her fine eyes to be trained upon me, and me alone, if only for the time it takes to dance a reel. She is the only woman who has ever refused to stand up with me.”
“Did it occur to you, Darcy, she may have been getting back at you for your insult?” Bingley asked.
“Of course it did, and so I put ‘paid’ to that account. I was premature.”
Everyone sighed.
“Would you care to explain your erratic behaviour towards her when she stayed at Netherfield tending Jane?” Bingley asked.
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“What can I say? I found myself interested in her, and I did not wish to be. I could not will myself out of it. When she arrived, I happened to be crossing the hall, and the concern in her eyes was heartrending. Yet, she expected the disapprobation of the household, I’m sure she did, excepting yourself, Bingley, and the challenge in her eyes was thrilling to me. She had walked three miles, probably in a high lather, and had torn off her bonnet. Her hair…” Darcy took a deep breath. “It was just on the point of coming undone; she was glowing, her skirts spattered with mud. All she cared about was getting to her sister. She was…courageous, magnificent.
“When she joined us in the evenings, it was clear to me she wished to be anywhere else. Your sisters did not welcome her and made her uncomfortable with their civil disdain. Surely, you would not defend them, Bingley.”
Bingley pursed his lips, allowing his annoyance to show. “Do not try to distract me with their actions, Darcy. I will settle with them. Let us concentrate upon you.”
“Fine,” Darcy huffed. “To my credit, I was moved to protective feelings for Elizabeth, but she would challenge every word I said. The verbal jousting was stimulating. How I laughed inside when she bested Caroline time after time. Were you in the room, Bingley, when Caroline was playing a Scottish air and I asked Elizabeth to dance a reel, and she refused me again?”
Bingley smirked. “I do not remember that, but I do know, at the ball, Jane was surprised to see her sister dance with you, for she had promised her mother never to do so.”
“What? When did she…?” Darcy was shocked.
Bingley shook his head. “Jane said that after the Meryton assembly, when Mrs Bennet was telling Mr Bennet you had slighted his favourite daughter, Miss Elizabeth assured her parents she would never dance with you.”
Georgiana turned to stare at her brother. “And you had no notion of Elizabeth’s disliking you, did you?”
“God’s blood…” Darcy muttered. His mind was propelled back to the last day the Bennet sisters were at Netherfield. I ignored her so carefully. No woman was ever ignored so carefully, and she probably thought it a blessed relief. I was so sure she was aware of my softening feelings. This is awful. Bloody awful. What else does Bingley know that I should have understood?
The Red Chrysanthemum Page 5