“I am somewhat relieved to hear that, Aunt,” Elizabeth replied bitterly, “as it makes me feel less foolish. If someone as wise and prudent as you liked Mr Wickham, I have some excuse for my silliness.”
“You were not silly, Lizzy. We all liked Mr Wickham,” Jane said.
“And most people probably still do because they remain ignorant to the truth,” Mrs Gardiner said.
“What do you think, Aunt? Should I expose him?”
“I am not certain, Lizzy… As dreadful as the reality is, perhaps he has finally decided to change his life and to make amends for his past errors by becoming an officer. Perhaps he deserves a second chance…”
“I believe everyone deserves a second chance, even Mr Wickham,” Jane declared.
“Besides, if Mr Darcy wished to expose him, he would have done so himself while he was in Hertfordshire, would he not?” Mrs Gardiner asked.
“That is true, Aunt. Then I shall say nothing for now and give Mr Wickham a chance to show me that he has improved.”
“Or perhaps you should ask Mr Darcy what to do, next time you see him.”
“I doubt I shall see Mr Darcy again soon — if ever,” Elizabeth said. “But I am glad we spoke about this delicate matter — it was burdening me, and I needed someone trustworthy to share it with.”
“I am glad you did, too, Lizzy. May I discuss it with your uncle?” Mrs Gardiner asked.
“Of course. There is nobody I trust more than you and Uncle.”
“Thank you, Lizzy. Oh, speaking of your uncle — who is not just trustworthy but also generous and caring — I have some good news,” Mrs Gardiner added with a smile. “He has purchased tickets to the theatre for a performance of Shakespeare’sMuch Ado About Nothingin three days’ time. So you can look forward to some entertainment and leave all your distressing thoughts behind,” the lady concluded.
Elizabeth and Jane embraced her with affection and gratitude. Their hearts were still heavy with a torment that no play could palliate; however, the prospect of a night at the theatre was enchanting nevertheless.
Dinner was a pleasant affair, and Elizabeth’s spirits improved a little. Yet later that night, when Jane was asleep but Elizabeth was still restless, her thoughts returned to Mr Darcy and all the questions surrounding him.
Was he engaged to his cousin? Would she see him again? If she did, what was she to tell him? The remembrance of that day at the parsonage was so vivid, with his tall figure, his piercing eyes that had gazed upon her with such intensity, his hoarse yet steady voice declaring his love that had overcome his better judgment, even his will.
Her cheeks burned and her heart raced, and she scolded herself severely.Foolish girl that you are! He is a proud and disagreeable man, and you refused him soundly. Let that be the end of it. You should stop thinking about the past unless its remembrance brings you pleasure!
Her voice of reason was loud but not strong enough to change her mind, nor to soothe her tumult, and she needed another hour of recollections and self-recrimination before she finally fell asleep.
Chapter 2
The following days in Gracechurch Street passed in a gentle rhythm, a welcome respite from Mr Collins’s constant agitation. Elizabeth found solace in the lively chatter of her young cousins, the wise counsel of her aunt, and the quiet companionship of Jane, whose spirits, though shadowed, seemed to brighten with each shared smile and whispered confidence. Yet beneath the surface of these pleasant diversions, Elizabeth’s thoughts often wandered unbidden to Mr Darcy. His letter, now safely tucked away in her reticule, served as both a balm and a barb — a reminder of her own folly and his unexpected vulnerability.
She had resolved to confide nothing further of the proposal or the revelations therein, not even to Jane, whose tender heart still nursed the wounds inflicted by Mr Bingley’s abrupt departure. Instead, Elizabeth threw herself into the small joys of London life: strolls in the nearby parks, visits to the circulating library, and assisting Mrs Gardiner with the children’s lessons. The anticipation of the theatre excursion grew with each passing hour, a beacon of diversion that promised laughter and escape.
On the evening of the performance, the Gardiner household was filled with expectation. Mrs Gardiner had selected elegant yet modest gowns for her nieces — Jane in a soft ivory muslin that complemented her serene beauty, and Elizabeth in a sprigged green that brought out the sparkle in hereyes — and as they rattled towards Covent Garden, the air was full of animated speculation about the play.
“Much Ado About Nothing,” Mr Gardiner mused, adjusting his cravat. “A fitting title for the follies of love and misunderstandings. I dare say it will provide ample amusement.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “Indeed, Uncle. Though I suspect Beatrice and Benedick’s sparring will remind me of certain acquaintances whose pride and prejudice lead them astray.”
Jane glanced at her sister with a knowing smile but said nothing, her thoughts perhaps drifting to her own romantic entanglement.
The façade of the theatre glowed with lamps that cast a warm, inviting light over the throng of arrivals. Elegantly attired ladies and gentlemen mingled in the vestibule, their voices a symphony of anticipation. The Gardiners secured their seats in the first gallery, a respectable position that afforded a clear view of the stage without the extravagance of a private box. As the orchestra tuned their instruments and the curtains rustled in promise, Elizabeth felt a flutter of genuine delight. Here, amidst the magic of Shakespeare, she could forget the shadows of Hunsford.
The play commenced with a flourish, the actors’ voices ringing out in witty repartee. Elizabeth was soon engrossed, her laughter mingling with that of the rest of the audience as Beatrice’s sharp tongue clashed with Benedick’s haughty demeanour. Yet, during a particularly lively scene, her gaze wandered towards the boxes lining the theatre’s walls. And there, in one of the more prominent positions, she spied a familiar figure.
Mr Darcy.
Her heart stuttered. He sat with an air of composed elegance, his dark eyes fixed on the stage, though his expression suggested his thoughts were elsewhere. Beside him was a young lady of delicate features, her fair hair caught in the candlelight — surely Miss Georgiana Darcy, whom Elizabeth had only heard of in whispers. Flanking them were two gentlemen: one she recognised as Colonel Fitzwilliam, his amiable countenance alight with enjoyment, and another, older and more imposing, who bore a striking resemblance to the colonel — undoubtedly his elder brother, the viscount.
Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed as she averted her eyes, praying she had not been noticed. How could fate be so capricious?Of all the places in London, why must he be here?And with his family, no less. She forced her attention back to the stage, but the words jumbled into nonsense, her mind replaying the parsonage scene with mortifying clarity.
