“Miss Elizabeth is the past,” he said; but his cousin—who knew him so well—could hear, beneath the words, the true sadness of his heart. Only time could determine when Miss Elizabeth would truly belong to the past for Darcy.
But once married that past would be buried forever.
In the end, the colonel thought that Anne might prove a good choice.
He began to observe her more closely and was indeed surprised at how much she seemed to have changed. Yet, like Darcy, he wondered whether she had truly improved, or whether they had simply not attended to her before.
She spoke little—as she always had—but there was now a softness in her expression. More than once, he observed her casting glances in Darcy’s direction, which, after all, was a good sign. Unfortunately, Darcy still regarded her with something closer to mild affection than to love or passion. And he knew wellhow Darcy could look at a lady he loved, for he had seen him many times observing Miss Elizabeth in Kent.
Chapter 11
Netherfield was in a state of bliss. Not only did the future couple and their guests partake in the joy, but it seemed that the estate itself was flourishing in their honour. The house and gardens were being decorated by a celebrated architect, who had come from London two days before the wedding. He had some unusual—but exquisite—ideas, which he claimed had come from Marie Antoinette’s entertainments at Versailles.
“I hope this gentleman knows that the Queen of France is dead, and that we are still at war with Napoleon,” Mr Bennet observed in his usual sarcastic manner. But as he was alone with Elizabeth, his words had no dangerous effect. Their chief concern was Jane, who was so afraid that something might go wrong at her wedding that she surrendered herself to every ancient superstition.
“I suppose this is how brides are—full of anxieties. That is why she imposes so many demands upon us.”
“Whims, not demands,” Mr Bennet replied, rather morosely. “I only hope to survive these next two days,” he added in a lighter tone.
“You are unfair, Papa.” Elizabeth smiled, reproving her father with affection. “She is happy and excited, and it is only natural for a future wife to behave so.”
“Yes, of course, my dear. I can only speak freely before you and my brother Gardiner, because you understand how happy I am for Jane. My last words were only the whims of an old man.”
“I know, Papa,” Elizabeth said, looking at her father. She would not allow herself to see him as old, nor to imagine life without him.
Jane’s wedding was a joyful occasion for the whole Bennet family. Charles Bingley, with his well-known benevolence and generous heart, refused any marriage settlement that included a dowry.
“Sir,” he said in his unpretending manner, “all that I possess is for Miss Bennet and our…offspring. My solicitors have been instructed to prepare a marriage settlement on that understanding. And I wish you to know that, from this day, you are my family.”
It was his delicate way of saying that, whatever might happen to Mr Bennet, he would support his widow and daughters. Mr Bennet valued that assurance, which made him feel more secure in the future of his family.
“I think highly of Mr Bingley, and I am convinced Jane has found the perfect husband—generous and cheerful, a rare combination in a man. Indeed, your sister is fortunate…but what is the matter with you?” He scrutinised his daughter. For some time, he had noticed in Elizabeth’s eyes a shadow of sadness. Strangely enough, it was Mrs Bennet who first observed it, though she rarely attended to the subtler moods of her daughters.
“Leave her alone,” he had said then. “Lizzy and Jane have always been inseparable, and it is difficult for Lizzy to remain behind—not merely for a short time, but for the rest of her life.”
But the longer he observed his favourite daughter, the more he doubted that Jane’s impending departure was the sole cause of her sadness. Elizabeth’s sorrow had a quality more suited to disappointed love. Formerly, like most men, he had understood little of women’s feelings. Yet after living among five daughters as they grew up, he had begun to read certain states of mind and heart. And Elizabeth was the only one who had never given him cause for anxiety.
“Come,” he said with tenderness, “I shall walk with you to the gates of Netherfield. You ought to be with the young people while your aunt and uncle are there for the day.”
They walked on together, and the silence between them convinced Mr Bennet that Elizabeth’s sadness had another source. It was too deep, too settled. And with Jane to live less than three miles away, the sisters would still be able to see one another as often as they pleased.
“You know that you may tell me anything that troubles you,” he said, somewhat hesitantly.
Elizabeth looked at her father in surprise. She had never imagined that anyone could perceive her torment, so carefully had she tried to conceal it beneath her eagerness for Jane’s wedding. Yet perhaps it was true that with her father, she was less guarded than with others. Though glad of his kindness, she could not tell him the cause of her distress. No one, save Aunt Gardiner, knew what had passed at Hunsford Parsonage.
“I know, Papa, but there is nothing to trouble yourself about.”
But that was far from the truth. Almost two months after the unhappy proposal, she remained in the same state of profound regret and despair.
She had waited with increasing anxiety for an answer to her note. It was a daring step, from a social point of view, for an unmarried lady to write to a gentleman, but her message might well be regarded as an answer to his.
She had considered long what she ought to write, and at last resolved to send a brief note rather than a full letter. Aunt Gardiner had read every version—there were perhaps ten of them—and finally chose the one that conveyed her feelings with propriety and a shade of sorrow, neither too severe nor too apologetic.
Mr Darcy,
Thank you for your letter. I appreciate your honesty regarding those persons and incidents you related. I prefer to forget the sharp words that passed between us and remember only your warm feelings. Such a resolution on both our parts may alter the present situation and lead to an honest friendship.
Sincerely,
