I know not how far Mr Darcy’s condescension—or dare I say affection—will extend, nor what he can truly be expected to do to help, but I beg you would tell him. At the very least, he ought to know that his kind offer meant the world to Agnes. Not many things make her smile these days. Only your letters with news from Pemberley, and now Mr Darcy’s, calling it her home. I shall do what I can for her, Dot. That I promise.
Pray wish Jane all the best for her wedding.
All my love,
E Wallis
Darcy stared at the page, unsettled by the power of its effect on him. A memory of Mrs Reynolds stumbling in the library wedged a knot of emotion in his throat that made him wish he had never consented to reading the damned stash of her letters in the first place.
“We tried,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I am sorry we were too late.”
He attempted to speak and was dismayed to discover he could not.
“Shall we go to bed?”
He nodded, inordinately grateful that Elizabeth did not intend to press him to say any more on the subject, for what more was there to say? She merely curled up next to him and held him tightly. He was reminded of the assurance she gave him, early in their engagement, that he would never be alone in his misery again. He had been deeply touched by the sentiment but had not truly understood the breadth of her promise, nor the gamut of adversities capable of causing him misery. This was certainly not something he ever anticipated would be one, and he thanked God, yet again, for Elizabeth’s treasured compassion. He pulled her more firmly against him and waited for what felt like an eternity for sleep to come and extinguish his uncomfortable, distant sense of sorrow.
* * *
Elizabeth referenced the matter but once, indirectly, the next morning. As they readied themselves for the ceremony, she asked whether he was well, accompanying her enquiry with a significant look. He answered that he was and then silenced her with a compliment and a kiss—because she deserved both, and he had no wish to dwell on anything else.
The wedding was a more extravagant affair than his own to Elizabeth had been, no doubt a consequence of the extra time Mrs Bennet had been afforded to make it so. Darcy felt in no way deprived. He had almost fully acquainted himself with all the pleasures of marriage to his new bride in the time it took Bingley to get around to cutting into his wedding cake.
“We were dreadfully sorry to hear about Pemberley,” Mrs Gardiner remarked at the wedding breakfast. “It is such a handsome house.”
“Is it?” Mrs Bennet said airily. “I would not know. Not all of us have had the pleasure of an invitation.”
“You must take the hint, my dear,” said Mr Bennet. “As excuses go, razing half one’s house to the ground to avoid a visit from one’s new mother shows a resolve I can only admire.”
Darcy did not contradict him. If there were any positives to be taken from the disaster, he was in no position to refuse them.
“Will you put it back exactly how it was?” Gardiner enquired.
“Nay, I say you should leave it as it is,” Bingley interposed. “Caroline has always wanted me to build a house that was modelled on Pemberley. I shall save a fortune if I do it now, while half of it is missing.”
“What rooms were lost?” Jane enquired of Elizabeth, who listed the library, study, gallery, bedrooms, and attic rooms.
“Oh well, at least the nursery did not fall down, for you will need that soon enough,” said Mrs Bennet. “And this is a fine opportunity to decorate the rest of the house. But attend, you must never put chinoiserie in a dining room. It plays havoc with the digestion.”
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, expecting her to be diverted. Instead, he found her with heightened complexion, staring at her plate with uncommon intensity, a small frown pulling at her forehead. He thought back over all that had been said, anxious to know what had given her such pause. His heart lurched when he thought he had hit upon the answer, and the longer Elizabeth remained still, the more certain he became.
“Darcy? Are you listening?” Bingley said loudly. “What say you? Will you let Lizzy paint the dining room purple?”
“She can knock it down and build a new one if she likes. I should not object.”
“He is positively blasé about knocking walls down now! You may never get an invite, Mrs Bennet, for there will be no house left at this rate.”
“If the house was to be painted purple, that may not be a bad thing,” Hurst opined.
At length, Elizabeth shook off her distraction and added her customary wit to her family’s banter. Darcy found it harder to shake offhisand grew impatient for the celebrations to end, yet no opportunity presented itself for private conversation with Elizabeth, either before the time came to wish the happy couple well and depart, or on the carriage ride to London with Georgiana. And the letter that awaited Darcy on his desk when they arrived at Astroite House momentarily drove all other considerations from his head. Elizabeth left him to open it in private, though it took very little time to read the short and shakily written note.
To Mr Darcy,
You do me great honour, but I cannot accept your money or your invitation to return to Pemberley. I shall not worsen my offences by attaching my disgrace to you. I am profoundly sorry for the harm my misdirected and presumptuous interference caused. No excuse I can offer compensates for the egregiousness of my actions, but I do offer you my sincerest, most heartfelt apology. If it is not too impertinent, I congratulate you on your marriage. I wish you and Mrs Darcy all the happiness in the world. Never have there been two people whom I wished so well.
With all the esteem you will permit me to send,
A. Reynolds
