Page 107 of The Mistress of All & Torn

It was the perfect moment for Mr. and Mrs. Bingley to share the happiest of news that they were expecting their first child.

∞∞∞

Before Elizabeth and her party left London, three other significant events occurred.

Firstly, another two victims of Lord Barrington’s atrocities were found: a young maid who had a son of almost two years old and another one who had carried a child but lost him at birth. To both of them, Elizabeth offered employment, shelter and protection at one of her properties of their choice, where they were invited to move with their families, at their convenience.

The second event was the arrival in London of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who demanded an urgent meeting with Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth informed Darcy about the strange request, wondering about his aunt’s presence. The very same day, he visited his aunt and after a long and enlightening discussion, Lady Catherine chose to not renew her demands to Elizabeth. Instead, she expressed her ill opinion about the impertinent Miss Elizabeth Bennet to anyone willing to listen to her. Surprisingly, her brother, Lord Matlock, and her sister-in-law were not among those.

The third event was a visit from Colonel Fitzwilliam, who brought the card of his old friend, Mr. Cesar Johnson, a former navy lieutenant, now retired due to a severe foot injury. Mr. Johnson was the son of a successful businessman who made a small fortune from trading between the Indies and England, and the nephew of a talented piano teacher. As he claimed a brief acquaintance with Lady Barrington and Miss Cecilia, he asked for the honour to call one day, when it was acceptable to them. Elizabeth discussed the subject with Cece and they agreed to send word through Colonel Fitzwilliam. They would leave London in two days and there was no time for other calls, but they would be happy to receive him in January, as soon as they returned.

Chapter 32

Elizabeth had been in Hertfordshire for a fortnight so far and had enjoyed every moment of her time amongst her family. Whether she felt like Lizzy Bennet or Lady Barrington, she was happy to be home. Unlike her previous visit, with the Gardiners expected to join them, she had decided to stay at Netherfield, close to Jane. However, she spent most of her time at Longbourn, with her father. Her mother was either with their guests, with Jane or out sharing her excitement with her friends in Meryton.

The party was large, yet not complete yet. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Gardiner both had unfinished business in town and were expected to arrive in the middle of December. While Mrs. Gardiner waited to travel with her husband, Miss Darcy had decided to join Elizabeth and was employing her time most pleasantly with the Bennet sisters and Cece.

Two weeks before Christmas it started to snow and overnight, the whiteness covered the ground entirely, like a fairy tale. December the fifteenth was a day which Elizabeth would never forget, when all her uncertainties vanished, blown away by the freezing breeze that spread the snow across the fields.

At noon, she was in the library with her father, when the sound of a carriage and then joyful cries startled her. She went to the window, her knees trembling, watching her uncle climbing down, then the children waving cheerfully, then her aunt and then finally him. Darcy.

He held his hat in his hand while the wind and the snow moistened his hair and his face. He followed the others to the house, glancing around. He finally entered, disappearing from Elizabeth's sight and she panicked as though he was gone again. And that instant, out of that silly fear, she understood that she could not lose him. She hurried out of the library, oblivious to her father calling her. In the hall, there was complete chaos, with greetings and shouting and laughing.

His eyes met hers, and he stepped forward until he was only inches away. The melted snow fell in drops from his hair and he wiped his face before addressing her. “Miss Bennet. I am happy to see you again.”

She attempted to smile and began to respond properly. She wished to welcome him, to tell him that she was happy to see him too. Instead, she stretched out her hand to him and he took it after removing his gloves. His hands were cold, but his fingers were strong and tender. A special sort of warmth flowed from their joined hands down inside her body.

She heard herself whispering, “It is not gratitude.”

Darcy stared at her, bewildered, dumbfounded. He said nothing but his expression begged to hear it again. She repeated, “It is not gratitude.”

At that moment Georgiana threw herself into her brother’s arms, the others surrounded him and any moment of privacy was gone for the rest of the day.

The confession released a wave of joy unknown to her before, so strong that she could barely keep it inside. She felt blissfully content but could recognise his torment. She tried to speak to him but it seemed an impossible task, so she only smiled several times, reassuringly.

During dinner, the table, too small for such a large gathering, forbade any intimate conversation.

Eventually, he stole a moment after dinner and approached her, whispering, “Are you certain? Absolutely certain?”

She had no time to reply, as Bingley asked him something and he was forced to respond.

When the party came to an end, the Bingleys, the Darcys, Elizabeth and Cece returned to Netherfield. The storm had grown and the wind blew angrily, while the snow never ceased.

They entered the house in a hurry, each retiring to their rooms as it was very late already. Thoughtful, happy but restless, torn between tears and laughter, Elizabeth was prepared to wait for the next day. There was only one more night.

She changed, put on her robe, released her hair, then tied it with a ribbon, then released it again.

She watched the blizzard outside and the fire in the hearth and reflected on what a storm must have been in his soul. She knew her mind, but he was still wondering and had to suffer until morning. There was only one more night—one night too many.

With little consideration of her scandalous gesture, she left the room. After two weeks, she was familiar with Netherfield’s every corner. With much care, she tiptoed along the hall, stopped in front of the door and after a brief hesitation, knocked.

The door opened immediately like he was waiting. He invited her in, his eyes lingering on her—a vision in a silky, white gown, so different from her mourning clothes, and her hair falling on her shoulders.

He was wearing a thin, unbuttoned shirt that revealed his neck and torso, and trousers.

With their gazes locked, Elizabeth began.

“In vain have struggled, it would not do. I had to come and answer your question without delay. I am certain it cannot be just gratitude and friendship, as I have felt them before and they were different,” she murmured. “How could it be just gratitude when I miss you every moment you are away and when my knees are weak and my heartbeat rapid whenever I see you? When food, sleep, even the love of my family was incomplete until you arrived?”