Elizabeth could almost wish that Charlotte had never come. More clearly than anything else could have, she had shown Elizabeth just how far she had fallen. In the past, when they had been secure at Longbourn, their father alive and well, and the family among the most respected members of Meryton society, Mr Darcy might have been convinced to lower himself to ask her for her hand. Now, she was receiving charity from orchards that used to belong to her family. She was sleeping on a pallet in the corner of her mother’s room, while her three younger sisters shared a bed in the only other room in the house. They had to take economies at every chance they could, just to survive.
She was far too far below Mr Darcy to think he could love her in return. And just as Charlotte had called that afternoon with a basket of apples to supplement a cottager family’s meagre fare, her stay at Pemberley had been nothing more than charity extended to a family who had lost everything in that terrible fire. Surely Mr Darcy had not asked them to Pemberley for her, but only out of pity and the goodness of his heart. Nothing more.
Chapter 22
Darcy strode quickly through the grounds of Pemberley, as though his pace alone could drive away thoughts of Elizabeth. The crisp air of autumn had fully come, making thin wisps of mist float from his mouth every time he expelled a breath. But not even the cold could expel Elizabeth from his thoughts, or distract his heart from love of her.
Forgetting her seemed more impossible each day. But then, Darcy had to admit to himself that he did not really wish to.
A clap of thunder interrupted his thoughts. Looking around him, it became apparent that the weather had taken a turn for the worst. Threatening clouds loomed overhead, and rain was already pouring down over the far hills, and coming closer every moment. Darcy had to shake his head at his own folly, for he had walked so briskly that it would take fully half an hour to return to the house. He would be soaked through. But then, he deserved nothing less for his foolish inattention.
At the sight of the chapel down the road, Darcy’s thoughts and his steps took another turn. Perhaps he need not abandon himself to being drenched just yet. He hurried into the empty church with moments to spare. By the time he was strolling forward to the altar, rain was already pouring down. With luck,it would prove to be nothing more than a cloudburst, and he could soon be on his way.
Still, there was no knowing how long that might take. Darcy sat in the front pew of the church, leaning back and adopting a far more casual position than he ever would during a service.
The altar was lovely, made with reverent care by skilled craftsmen and burnished with the gloss of long years. It looked exactly as it had when Darcy was a boy, and services had seemed interminably long. How many hours of his life had been spent here, listening to the rector and looking at that altar?
What would it be like to stand there himself as Elizabeth came down the aisle toward him?
Darcy was gradually coming to think that it would be the summation of all his dreams. True, he could not delude himself that his family would approve, or even that his parents would have understood his choice. His father had wanted him to make the most advantageous match he could. It had always been understood that while ‘advantageous’ might include beauty and charm, these would be secondary characteristics that he could seek in a potential wife only after she had passed the more important tests of her fortune and connections.
Well, Elizabeth had neither of those, but she had his heart. Surely there could be no more advantageous match than to a woman of wit and humour, kindness and character. To the woman he loved.
He smiled as he remembered that first day in the drawing room at the London townhouse, when she had given such an apt description of the themes in Mrs Laurence’s book, making her disagreement with him more charming than mereagreement could ever be. How her eyes had sparkled! Elizabeth was so brilliant, and so brilliantly alive. Indeed, her whole being sparkled. He would gladly spend his whole life with that brilliance.
Though the rain lasted for the better part of an hour, Darcy did not find the time long. It was enough to sit there, thinking of what he wished his life to be, and how Elizabeth seemed woven through every moment.
The walk home, though thankfully free of rain, was rather muddy. Darcy had no sooner entered the front hall than Mrs Reynolds informed him that several letters had been delivered.
“Thank you. I’ll take them in my room,” he said.
Mrs Reynolds bowed and went to inform a footman, though not without giving a rather doubtful look at his muddy boots. Darcy hurried upstairs and called his valet so he could change. When the letters were delivered, he settled in before the hearth and its crackling fire to read them. One of them was from Bingley. He opened it first, as the others were only letters of business.
∞∞∞
Dear Darcy,
We have arrived in London and are readying for a long string of outings, per Caroline’s bidding. But I find I am longing for the solitude of the country and the company of good friends. I plan to travel to Netherfield next week. Perhaps you might meet me there before the weather turns deathly cold. Meryton should not be as dull now that we know Miss Bennetis nearby. Perhaps she can be convinced to leave her cottage and bring along her family. I have heard from others in the neighbourhood that they are very charming. As I am sure you remember, the Meryton assembly is a lively affair. I feel I have not danced in ages, and I would very much like to stand up with any of the Bennet sisters that would allow me the pleasure. Caroline made it very difficult to enjoy ourselves at the last assembly, I know, with all her biting remarks about the locals. Honestly, I do not know where she inherited her temper. Our mother was serious but never cruel.
On that note, perhaps I ought to mention that she will not be joining me at Netherfield. How shall I say this? I imagine that may influence your decision, and I certainly would not begrudge it, were that the case. Likewise, Mr and Mrs Hurst will be staying in London with Caroline. Perhaps you will wish to bring Miss Darcy, if I can convince you to visit. Knowing Miss Bennet to be near, I am sure she would wish to join us. And unlike some unfortunate men who shall remain nameless, you, Darcy, are fortunate in having a sister who would never make others ill at ease.
Please write as soon as you can with your answer, so I may make preparations for what I hope will be a speedy reunion.
I am, as always, your faithful friend.
Bingley
∞∞∞
Bingley was half-right, Darcy thought. His friend wasentirely correct in suspecting that Caroline Bingley’s absence would be pleasant news to him, but wrong in believing that her presence might have caused him to decline the invitation. With nothing less than a reunion with Elizabeth at stake, he would brave even the schemes and flirtations of Miss Bingley.
Surely Georgiana’s delight would be equal to his own. Unexpectedly catching his reflection in the windowpane, Darcy saw he was little short of grinning. The expression felt strange after weeks of low spirits. He would go to her at once, and let Georgiana be cheered by the news as well.
When he arrived, his sister was sitting listlessly at the pianoforte, but not a note issued from the instrument. Darcy stopped for a moment, feeling for her. He strode over to her, and she looked up at him, giving a sad smile. “Oh, hello, Fitz. I was just trying to get up the gumption to play something.”
“Allow me to brighten your spirits,” he said. “And then you may feel like playing all sorts of pieces that have seemed too jolly over the last few weeks.”
She raised a brow. “Oh? Has Miss Bennet sent another letter?” Georgiana asked excitedly.
