by K C Kahler
She giggled. “Yes, in part, it is Lizzy’s influence. She chooses the books I am to read, and I must say I trust her tastes completely. But really, I am attempting to fulfil my mother’s quest. I aim to impress a certain gentleman with my literary acumen and thus catch a husband.”
“You? But you are far too young to be married. Besides, a husband ought to accept you for the delightful girl you already are. Who is this severe gentleman who expects such scholarship in young girls?”
“He does not expect it. I merely observed that the surest way of coaxing him into conversation was to mention literature. He is most taciturn, but he and Lizzy have had some very lively debates about books. I wanted my part in the conversation.”
“Taciturn? Surely he must have some charm.”
“He is very handsome and very rich. And he plays cricket wonderfully.”
Mary prepared to play the next song, and John offered Lydia his arm for the dance. “Cricket? Well, perhaps he is not as bad as I thought. Who is this paragon, so that I may put in a good word for you?”
“He is Mr Darcy.”
John was truly shocked. “Mr Darcy? Do you mean to tell me that you are pursuing Mr Darcy for the purposes of marriage?”
“Yes. I have already put in ever so much effort. Do you think it very unlikely that I may catch him?” Lydia had been discouraged by her prospects of late, and Mr Darcy would soon leave the county.
“I can hardly say,” John replied. Soon his smile returned. “But let us enjoy our dance now, shall we?”
Lydia wholeheartedly agreed. She had never enjoyed a dance so much. John was the handsomest, jolliest partner she could ever hope for. She looked forward to many future opportunities to repeat the act, even if she would never be his first choice of dance partner.
When the dance ended, he bowed to her, “Thank you, Miss Lydia. You are an excellent dancer. Now I must find Miss Kitty.” He made his way through the couples, leaving Lydia near the pianoforte.
“Cousin Lydia,” Mr Collins said from behind her, “might I have a word?”
If Lydia could count on it only being one word, she might be more inclined to agree. But this was Mr Collins, after all. “Oh, I was just on my way to my mother.”
“This will only take a moment. I could not help but overhear your conversation with Mr Lucas before the dance.” He looked terribly disapproving, though Lydia could not remember having said anything untoward or overly bold. “I must warn you against any attempt to ‘catch’ Mr Darcy for a husband.”
“Oh, is that all? I am certain Mr Darcy is pursued wherever he goes. I am as free to try for him as the next girl.”
“If it were so simple, I might not warn you off. But Mr Darcy, as it turns out, has already been caught. He is engaged to marry Miss Anne de Bourgh.”
“What?” she nearly yelled. “It cannot be.”
“It is true, I assure you. I offered my suggestions on the official announcement last week. Lady Catherine says I have a flair for composition, and she was most eager for my advice on it.” Mr Collins was insufferable as ever while he boasted. Then he recalled himself and looked at Lydia again. “I am sorry if this news injures you. Mr Darcy and Miss de Bourgh have long had an understanding to unite their estates. Until recently, Miss de Bourgh’s poor health had prevented the fulfilment of their mothers’ mutual dreams. Now all is settled. If you thought Mr Darcy gave any encouragement to you, I am certain you were mistaken. I understand how one such as yourself might be awed by one such as Mr Darcy.”
Lydia straightened her back and said icily, “Thank you for your concern, Mr Collins. Now I really must take my leave of you.” She curtseyed and walked away.
Mr Darcy engaged all this time? Could it be true? Oh, who might know the truth of it?
“Where is Lizzy?”
“I believe she is on the balcony.”
Lydia made her way across the room, weaving through happy guests on her way to the balcony. There, she saw not only her sister, but Mr Darcy. His back was to her. As Lydia squinted into the darkness, she could just make out that Lizzy was indeed there, almost entirely blocked from view by Mr Darcy’s broad back.
“Lizzy! I must speak with you this instant!” Lydia called out in no good humour. “If Mr Darcy will spare you, that is.”
Elizabeth was almost positive Mr Darcy would kiss her. Moreover, she was sure she would let him. She knew very little of such matters, only what she had glimpsed of Jane and Mr Bingley, but she knew she wanted him to kiss her. He had been so different tonight; he made her feel beautiful and clever, and…essential. As she stood on the balcony looking up into his dark eyes, she finally admitted the truth to herself: she had fallen in love with Mr Darcy. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and as she gazed at him, some of the gold flecks in his disappeared into blackness. He was so close, and she was entranced by the warmth of him, the smell of him, and the enormity of this moment.
“Lizzy! I must speak with you this instant!” Lydia called. “If Mr Darcy will spare you, that is.” She sounded annoyed.
Elizabeth stepped back and let out the breath she had been holding. Perhaps it was better that she and Mr Darcy should resolve this tomorrow morning, alone. After all, this had started on the banks of Oakham Stream. They had no privacy to speak here, though he did not seem inclined to speak.
“Forgive me,” she whispered as she went to Lydia. Before leaving the balcony, she looked back at him one last time. He faced away from her into the darkness of the night. Lydia pulled her through the door into the drawing room.
“What on earth is the matter, Lydia?”
“Oh, Lizzy! I have heard the most dreadful news! Mr Collins…”—she looked around her to make sure no one was near—“Mr Collins tells me that Mr Darcy is…has long been engaged to Miss de Bourgh!”
Elizabeth felt as if she had just fallen off the plow horse again, like when she was seven. She had been afraid of horses ever since. “It cannot be true,” she whispered, for she had only sufficient breath for whispering.
“Do you think it could be false?” Lydia asked with great hope in her voice.
Elizabeth’s mind was a muddle. “We must find Mary, and ask her what she thinks.”
“Why should Mary know anything more than you?”
“Mary sees and hears more than any of us, and she remembers everything.”
Lydia seemed sceptical but willing to proceed. “She’s over there!” She pulled Elizabeth towards the far wall where Mary, once again relieved from her duty at the pianoforte, stood and watched the room.
“Mary, we must ask you something,” Lydia said.
Mary waited, looking between the two of them. Elizabeth began, “Lydia, tell us exactly what Mr Collins said, and please be mindful of the volume of your voice.”
Lydia nodded. “I was speaking to John about why I started reading books—you know, to catch Mr Darcy? And then we danced, and when it was over, Mr Collins came to me in a very scolding manner. He overheard what I said and wished to warn me off Mr Darcy. Well, of course I said there was no reason not to try. Then he said that Mr Darcy has already been caught! He is engaged to marry Miss de Bourgh!”
Mary’s eyes widened but she showed no other reaction. “Did Mr Collins say anything else?”
“Of course he did. He cannot help but say too much every time he opens his mouth,” Lydia complained before returning to the subject at hand. “I did not believe it, but Mr Collins said he had seen the official engagement announcement Lady Catherine prepared for the papers just last week. He said Mr Darcy and Anne de Bourgh were long expected by their families to unite their estates, but that her health had prevented it. But now everything is settled and surely Mr Darcy had not given me any encouragement, for that would be impossible.”
Elizabeth leaned on the back of the nearest chair, for fear she might faint.
“Well?” Lydia asked of Mary. “Do you think it is true? Is there some chance Mr Collins is mistaken?”
Mary smoothed her skirt. �
�I never heard anything to confirm nor deny the truth of what he says. I do remember that Miss Bingley always appeared out of sorts whenever Miss de Bourgh was mentioned. But if the engagement were known by her, surely Miss Bingley would not chase after Mr Darcy the way she does.”
“That tells us nothing,” sulked Lydia.
“Lizzy, what about the letter you mentioned?” Mary asked.
“What letter?” Lydia demanded.
The letter! Elizabeth had nearly forgotten about it. “When…when Jane and I stayed at Netherfield, Mr Darcy spent one afternoon writing a letter to his cousin Miss de Bourgh.”
“Why did you not tell me? I could have saved myself all this trouble. Surely what Mr Collins says is true then.”
“Not necessarily,” interrupted Mary. “Mr Collins was completely ignorant that they exchanged any letters. Remember, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth tried to gather her thoughts. She knew coming to Mary would be the right thing to do. “Yes, but secretly exchanging letters would seemingly confirm rather than deny that they have an attachment.”
“But they are cousins. Perhaps they kept their correspondence a secret to avoid raising suspicions or expectations about the nature of their relationship.”
Elizabeth let herself feel a little better at the possibility. She and John did not exchange letters for the same reason, but if they could have done so in secret, they would have. Then reality intruded again. “Mr Collins got confirmation from Lady Catherine herself, and he read the announcement that is to go in the papers,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Perhaps the mistake originates with Lady Catherine,” Mary replied. “Mama had you married off to two different men this autumn already, and now a third. I do not doubt that Mr Collins believes what he says, but perhaps the source of his information is wrong. Our cousin may be many things, but he is not a liar.”
As the word liar reached her ears, Elizabeth suddenly remembered the last thing Mr Wickham had told her at Aunt Philips’s. She shook her head, “I just remembered. Mr Wickham…that night, after Lydia left us, Mr Wickham told me that Mr Darcy and Miss de Bourgh had a prior arrangement to unite their estates.”
“Why did you not tell us?” Lydia yelled.
“I thought we had determined that nothing he said could be believed. It seemed so unlikely that Mr Darcy would come into an area secretly engaged when an engagement could prove very useful in fending off unwanted interest. It is true that Mr Darcy never gave encouragement to any young lady in Hertfordshire.” Except tonight.
“That is not true!” Lydia sputtered. “The picnic! He carried me!”
Mary added quietly, “He carried Lizzy too.”
“Obviously neither instance denotes anything more than his helping an injured person,” Elizabeth said.
“He…he offered to send for his physician from London for me!”
“What’s all this commotion, ladies? Must I break up one of the famous Bennet sister quarrels on my first night back in Meryton?” John joined them at the edge of the room.
“Oh John! It is awful!” cried Lydia. “We have just learned that Mr Darcy, the gentleman I have been trying so hard to catch for weeks, is already engaged to his sickly, rich cousin.”
John’s eyes were immediately on Elizabeth. “Is this true?”
Mary answered, “I am afraid it must be true. The rumour has been confirmed by two very disparate sources, Mr Collins and Mr Wickham.”
“But not by Mr Darcy himself,” John said. “Lizzy, did he never say anything to you?”
Elizabeth could do naught but shake her head, for she feared she would cry at any moment.
John came to stand near her. “Someone must ask him.”
“I shall ask him, depend upon it,” said Lydia, ready to confront Mr Darcy.
“Lydia,” Elizabeth hissed, “do not cause a scene tonight. This is Charlotte’s and John’s night. You must not spoil it for them. I believe it is safe to say that the engagement is true, but for whatever reason, Mr Darcy does not wish to discuss it. If he wanted us to know about it, he would have told us. Let him have his secrecy. It is no concern of ours.”
“But it is not right that he should come into the country raising expectations when none of us ever had the slightest chance with him!”
“He never did anything to raise expectations. In fact, he did his best to discourage any interest.”
Lydia’s renewed protests were silenced when Jane, Mr Bingley, and Mr Darcy himself joined the group. Elizabeth dared not look at him, but she could feel his eyes upon her. John stepped closer to her. She thanked heaven for his quiet support. Lydia made excuses and left in a huff to find Kitty. Elizabeth could not concentrate on Mr Bingley’s cheerful conversation but was spared having to participate for John and Mary kept up their ends of the conversation admirably. All the while, Elizabeth felt those dark eyes on her. Sometime during this ordeal, she had begun clutching John’s arm.
Jane said, “Lizzy, are you quite well? You look distressed.”
“I am well, Jane. Thank you.”
“Perhaps you could use some fresh air, Miss Elizabeth,” John said. “Allow me to escort you.” He swept her away, and she had never been more grateful.
They arrived on the balcony where not half an hour earlier… Elizabeth could not finish the thought without weeping. Standing beside her as they both looked out into the night, John said, “You are in love with him.”
“Yes,” she whispered, though he had not really asked for confirmation. “Has there ever been anyone as foolish? I was warned at every turn. And still I…I let myself—” Now she did cry.
He put his arm around her shoulders. “I am so sorry, Lizzybits.”
She laid her head against him, and thus they stayed for several minutes as she composed herself.
“How much do you know?”
“Charlotte told me everything she knew, and I have guessed even more since this morning.”
“How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let this happen?”
“I believe he must take the blame. How dare he? I’ve a mind to confront him myself.”
“No. The mistake was mine, and so must the remedy be. I shall do what I ought to have done long ago: I shall end it. But not tonight. I cannot face him yet, John.”
“I shall not leave your side until you are safely in the carriage with your family.”
“Thank you.”
They made their way back into the drawing room. Mr Darcy was standing near the doorway, apparently waiting. Elizabeth still refused to meet his eyes, but John paused there while she stared at the floor, and then he led her away.
“What happened?” she asked.
“He will not approach you for the rest of the night,” was John’s only answer.
John was right. Mr Darcy did not approach her until the Bennets left about an hour later. He came with Mr Bingley to see them into the carriage. John came too, as promised.
When Mr Darcy bowed to Elizabeth, she finally looked him in the eyes. “Until we meet again, Mr Darcy.” The steadiness of her voice impressed her, especially upon seeing his stormy expression. But he understood she intended to meet him in the morning. That message had been conveyed.
John handed her first into the carriage. When they were away, Lydia informed everyone in dramatic fashion of what Elizabeth and Mary already knew. “Oh Mama!” she cried. “My heart has been broken tonight! Mr Darcy is already engaged to his cousin Miss de Bourgh!”
Mrs Bennet was incredulous at first, claiming there must be some mistake, but when Lydia explained everything, outrage ensued, “What a dreadful man! How dare he come into our house under false pretence! Lizzy, we were right about him on that first night at the assembly. He is a most disagreeable, horrid man; I quite detest him!”
Lydia began bawling loudly. Mrs Bennet embraced her, cooing comforts into her hair. Mary patted Elizabeth’s knee, and Jane protested that there must be some misunderstanding or some reason for the secrecy. She would ask Mr Bingle
y about it the next time she saw him.
“What does it matter whether he is engaged already?” Kitty asked, tired of the subject. “Lydia never had a chance with him anyway.” Lydia sputtered in outrage before Kitty added with a smirk, “And you read those books just for him! What a laugh!”
“As if you did not simper and smile at Henry Long all night long!” Lydia yelled.
“Lydia! You promised!”
Elizabeth turned away from their continuing argument and spent the rest of the carriage ride watching the black night pass by through the window. She longed to crawl into bed and leave this awful night behind her.
When they arrived at Longbourn, she was the last out of the carriage. Mr Bennet held on to her hand after she was safely on the ground. “Lizzy, are you…may I do anything for you?”
She swallowed, trying desperately not to cry. “No, Papa. I merely want to sleep.”
He sighed. “Very well, child. I shall make sure to end the disagreement between Lydia and Kitty so that you may have some peace.”
The next morning as the sun began to rise, Elizabeth struggled to get out of bed and listlessly performed her toilette. She had never been so reluctant to take her morning walk, certainly not in the last fortnight. She put on her boots in the back hallway, wishing the day was not so lovely. It was a stark contrast to her spirits. She dreaded what she must do on the banks of Oakham Stream today. Just last night, she had had very different expectations for what this walk, this day, might bring. How deluded she had been.
She could think of only three possibilities to explain Mr Darcy’s behaviour. First, he had been toying with her the entire time, as Mr Wickham had suggested. She refused to believe it. He was not heartless. Second, he found her a good distraction from his worries as he had said during their first meeting together. He enjoyed the entertainment she provided, and that was all. Thirdly, he had come to care for her but was not free to do anything about it.
Whether the second or third alternative was true, last night he had merely been swept up in the moment, a moment of weakness to which she had nearly succumbed as well. Through her foolhardy behaviour, she had risked her reputation and lost her heart. And now, she must end it. She must keep this meeting brief, else she might let him see how he had hurt her. There could be nothing more mortifying. He must never know how she felt about him. She did have some pride left.