As she laid down and closed her eyes, familiar images flashed in her mind. An elegant ballroom, a handsome man with reddish-blond hair in a blue coat… These memories swirled with more recent ones, and as she drifted off, she remembered. Mr. Bingley had returned to Netherfield over two months ago.
How am I to survive, knowing that he is so close, yet so far away?She sighed. She still loved him. Some small part of her wished him success in his quest to show her his heart was true. Another part of her scorned the thought of becoming another man’s wife. Though her subservience had been of short duration, she had endured more than enough of that sort of relationship. No, she had gone against her vows to marry for romantic love and equal affections once. She would never do so again.
Chapter Forty-Three
November 16, 1812
Longbourn
Elizabeth
The first few days at Longbourn had proved uneventful except for Mrs. Bennet’s antics. After sobering, she had railed against Jane’s decision to evict her from the mistress’s rooms for hours. Mrs. Hill had finally laced her tea with the tiniest bit of laudanum, successfully putting Mrs. Bennet to sleep until the next day.
Unfortunately, her tirades resumed the following morning. The vile words that she spewed did not disparage Jane; rather, her vitriol continued to be directed at her least favorite child. Thus, Elizabeth found it necessary to hide from her mother’s view. This did not prove difficult, for Mrs. Bennet refused to come out of her new room. She mistakenly thought thatby remaining above stairs that she punished her ‘ungrateful daughters.’ Instead, even Lydia felt relieved that their mother had not emerged.
“It is better that she is not here,” she said at dinner. “I never thought so before, but her complaints could give anyone a sour stomach.”
Darcy remained stoic throughout those first days. Mrs. Bennet’s attacks on his wife did nothing to make him like his mother-in-law. Additionally, Kitty and Lydia’s boisterous behavior discomposed him. Mary’s company was more to his tastes. They were both quiet and reflective, though Mary’s pompous behavior sometimes detracted from that.
In truth, all three sisters had undergone a material change since the last time Elizabeth had seen them. Now sixteen, Lydia had settled a little. She still bemoaned not being able to go to Brighton with Mrs. Forster, but she now spent some part of the day in a sensible manner. Upon questioning her, Lydia told Elizabeth that when the Darcys had departed, she had been left largely to herself.
“Mama retreated into melancholy,” she told Elizabeth. “Without the assurance that we would have a home, all she did was fret and cry. Mary and Kitty tried to help, but they were not terribly successful. And she did not want to see me.” Lydia sniffed. “She blamed me, said I ought to have been a boy. Mary and Kitty said she told them the same thing.
“And so, I tried reading some of Papa’s books. I still do not prefer the activity, but it alleviated some of my boredom. I wanted to go into Meryton too, but my sisters persuaded me not to.”
“I am proud of you, Lydia.” Elizabeth hugged her sister tightly.
“I do not like it,” Lydia confessed. “But I wanted Papa to be proud of me. He is not here, I know that. I never made himproud before he died. Do you think he sees me and is pleased now?”
Tears pricked Elizabeth’s eyes, and she nodded. “I believe he does. You are so grown up, Lydia. Slow down, I beg of you!”
Her sister chuckled and shook her head. “The rules and restrictions chafe, but I am learning. Kitty is too. At first, I felt angry that she abandoned me after Papa died. Now I understand that she simply mourns in her own way.”
Elizabeth related the conversation to Darcy later that evening as she brushed her hair before bed.
“I am pleased to see the improvement in my sisters,” she said. “What say you? Do you see a difference?”
“I do.” Darcy took the brush from her and set it down before pulling her to her feet. “They seem… calmer. At least Miss Lydia does.”
“Did you ever imagine that they would grow out of that trying stage?” She teased him, hoping to make him smile. His smiles had been too few since coming to Hertfordshire. Her ploy worked and the corners of his mouth turned up.
“Never,” he said seriously. “I supposed that Lydia and Kitty would run off with officers before they reached eighteen, and that Mary would end up a spinster.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Did you really?”
“Long ago, before I came to my senses, I did. Miss Bingley had strong opinions about it, I assure you. I thought mine aligned to hers until I was shown a better way. I might still have been that man if not for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”
She reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. “I love you,” she said.
He stilled, his gaze boring into hers. “What did you say?”
“I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I do not pretend we will always agree, nor do I believe that you will be able to resist arranging things to your liking without consulting me. But we fit welltogether, and it has been quite some time now that I considered you the best gentleman I have ever known. I only realized recently that my regard had undergone a change from affection to love.”
Despite all her previous misgivings, she had grown to love him dearly, and she could only be pleased that her decision of prudence and pragmatism had led her to be so happy.
“I am so pleased to hear it.” Darcy spoke in a voice thick with emotion. He pulled her closer and kissed her ardently and then nuzzled her neck. “I love you, Elizabeth Darcy,” he growled. He kissed her again, trailing them from her neck to her lips and back again.
Elizabeth leaned into his embrace, gasping when he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. How glad she was to have married him.
