Page 113 of The Mistress of All & Torn

Darcy had been at home with his sister and his cousins, Colonel Fitzwilliam, the viscount, and Anne de Bourgh.

His shock at seeing Elizabeth at Pemberley had been apparent; he had not expected her to be there. However, he had been friendly, polite, and welcoming. He had even insisted that they all stay at Pemberley. But the same day, before Elizabeth had had even a moment to talk to him, he had left. He had claimed to have some urgent business to attend to at another property in Oxfordshire and had not a moment to lose. He had allowed them to enjoy the beauty of his home, and he had removed himself from her presence.

Elizabeth had no doubt that he had done it to avoid her. And who could blame him? Any man who had been rejected and accused in such a horrible way would have done the same. And that had been the last time that Elizabeth had seen him. After his proposal. After his confession that he loved and admired her and wished to marry her. But all that was in the past. In the present, he had no desire to even speak to her.

They had stayed at Pemberley for a whole week. She had never been so enchanted by a place, nor had she ever seen one as beautiful.

She had quickly become friends with Georgiana and Anne, the colonel was as charming as ever, and the viscount friendlier than she had expected. Her relatives had all been treated in the best possible way, but everywhere she could see and sense Darcy’s touch, and his absence had burdened her as she felt the guilt of it.

She had heard only commendations about him. Everybody had spoken highly of him; his character and generosity were universally praised. His tenants considered him the kindest man and the best landlord.

Everybody who knew him admired and appreciated him. Only she had misjudged him entirely, simply because he had once called her tolerable and refused to dance with her. It was her vanity that had defeated her reason and common sense. While walking through Pemberley’s grounds, she had often mused that she could have been the mistress of all that beauty before her. She could have had the company and the affection of such a praiseworthy man. Instead, she was alone with her sorrow, her shame, and her guilt.

She did not regret refusing him. His behaviour towards her that day had been outrageous; his arrogance, his disdain, his manner of addressing her—all had been repulsive. At that time, she had had no tender feelings for him, and she could not possibly accept marriage to any man she despised. But that was the result of her wrong and hasty judgment. She grieved her lack of wit, her accusations, her ignorance of his true nature. She had noticed all his faults but very few of his qualities. She had been reckless, foolish, and unreasonable. And now she suffered deeply for not being able to apologise and make amends. If she could speak to him, to explain, to reach some common, friendly ground for the sake of her sister and his friend, she would be content.

But he did not wish to have anything to do with her. Furthermore, there were repeated rumours that Darcy had finally decided to marry his cousin, Miss de Bourgh. Unlike previous years, Anne de Bourgh had left Kent and had been seen in town for several weeks, then at the Matlock estate, and finally at Pemberley. She appeared to be spending much more time in Darcy’s company, as though they wished to know each other better. Even Bingley believed the same.

Also, Miss Darcy and Miss de Bourgh had mentioned many times their joy of being together and their sisterly bond, of which everybody seemed to approve.

An ache gripped Elizabeth’s chest at the realisation that Darcy would likely be married very soon, although she knew she had no reason and no right to feel that way. She could not possibly imagine that he would ever renew his proposal to her, under any possible circumstances. And when she had arrived at Pemberley, she had not even been certain she would have wanted that. Her sole desire had been to speak to him and to clear up all the misunderstandings between them.

But during the days she spent in his home, the more she thought of him, the more she came to know him in his absence, the more she felt that, perhaps, he could have been the man best suited to her. That comprehension came with another painful understanding: he had become the last man in the world she had any chance of ever marrying.

A man who had been so harshly and undeservingly rejected? A man as proud as him? Not even one with less pride, less fortune, or lower connections would humble himself so much as to propose a second time.

Yes, she had been his first choice. He had offered her his hand, ready to share his life with her against his family’s wishes. Their marriage would have, no doubt, aroused the disapproval of his family and friends, but he had been willing to fight every opponent for her sake. He had said he had loved her against his duty, against his will, against his reason, and even against his character. Back then, at the parsonage, she had been too angry, too prejudiced, too thoughtless to understand the strength and the depth of his confession. She had taken his words as offences, and her mind had been blurred by her misjudgment.

What else could she expect now, except his rejection? He had behaved better than most men in his situation would, as he was polite, generous, and kind to her family—even if from afar.

Elizabeth felt no hint of jealousy or any grudge against Anne. On the contrary, she had come to know her better and found that she was indeed well educated, friendly, and kind. Perhaps too shy, but her self-confidence was increasing daily.

Together with Pemberley, Elizabeth also liked Anne and Georgiana and valued their friendship enough to grieve losing them. She had no doubt that Darcy would forbid them any connection with her, so she would likely not see them—or Pemberley—again.

When she left for the Lakes, Elizabeth wished Anne and Georgiana the utmost happiness—with all her heart. Yet Elizabeth’s heart remained behind at Pemberley.

Shortly after, a report about Darcy becoming engaged to Anne arrived.

Ten months had passed since then, and Elizabeth was now at peace with her strife. Her spirit had slowly roused itself from the feelings of guilt. Eventually, she accepted that she had made the most significant error of her life, one that was impossible to remedy. She had to leave the past behind.

Of Darcy, she knew little. She expected news about his wedding to Anne. There had been rumours, as Anne continued to live with either the Matlocks or with Georgiana, in Darcy’s house. Miss de Bourgh had stayed away from Rosings for almost an entire year, which seemed unthinkable to everyone who knew the family. But no announcements about a wedding appeared, and Darcy himself was rarely seen in company. Bingley did not know more. He kept up a regular correspondence with Darcy but they were never reunited.

Elizabeth had come to London before Christmas, staying partly with the Gardiners and partly with Bingley and Jane, in Grosvenor Street. They unexpectedly encountered Colonel Fitzwilliam at the opera one evening, and he also informed them that he had seen his cousin but rarely. It appeared Darcy always had business that kept him away from his acquaintances.

But why was he estranged from his family and friends too?

Her reason and common sense convinced Elizabeth she could not challenge fate. She had to regain her wit and accept the obvious. Then she met Lady Kendal, and her life changed again—completely.

Now, she believed she was ready to embrace what the future had prepared for her. She also wished and prayed for Darcy to find peace and happiness in his marriage to Anne. If she happened to meet him one day, she would do it with composure and proper politeness, like any other old acquaintance.

“Miss Bennet? Which dress?” the maid asked, slighting raising her voice to bring Elizabeth back from her memories. She startled, looking around, momentarily disconcerted.

“This one.”

“Excellent. It will look wonderful on you, ma’am.”

“This gown would look wonderful on anyone,” Elizabeth said, as the maid started to dress her.

Still distressed by her recollections, Elizabeth felt little excitement in the preparations. The remembrance lowered her spirits even more, removing any pleasure of the upcoming event. Yet, she was dutiful in her efforts to look her best and needed more than an hour until she was satisfied with her own image in the mirror. Even then, she still needed another pin to fix a lock of unruly hair that fell onto her temple.