Page 138 of Bitterness of Spirit & The Painting

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The passing of the hours brought no more rest to Elizabeth either. The discussion with her aunt and sisters after dinner had mostly increased her nervousness. She was agitated without knowing the reason, restless and anxious—about everything and nothing in particular.

While Jane fell asleep, Elizabeth was not so lucky, turning over in bed from one side to another, threatening to disturb her sister. In her desperate quest for some peace, she tiptoed out of the room and then the house, hoping the fresh air would help her.

With her nightgown and robe on, her hair loose and free, she looked too improper for company, but she hoped a few minutes outside would not expose her to any indiscreet eyes. She walked through the garden and sat down by the gate. As she hoped, there was not a single soul around, everything was still and quiet.

As she stood there admiring the stunning moonlit view in front of her eyes, she noticed a man coming out from a house on her right. He was too far away to see his face, but the moonlight allowed her to notice his improper attire and his hasty steps towards the water. Instinctively, she moved even closer, hiding behind a bush. She was not in any state to be seen, and she did not wish to disturb the man’s obvious need for privacy.

She watched him as he dived into the water, then swam further out with calm, steady strokes. Minutes passed, and he moved further and further away from the shore, until he disappeared from her sight.

Chills of worry made Elizabeth shiver and she abruptly stood up, trying to spot the stranger, but he seemed lost in the dark sea. Scared, she wondered what to do, how to act. Could the man be in danger? Should she call for help?

She ran towards the shore, her eyes searching the quietly lapping surface of the water. She could see nothing else but the sparkling of the stars on the foam.

Elizabeth’s heart pounded, while her head was spinning with helpless fear. Had she just witnessed a man losing his life, trapped by the deceptive calmness of the sea?

She had just decided to run back to the cottage and rouse someone when, with a last glimpse, she observed regular movements far away in the water. She stared at that point until she had no doubt that the swimmer was returning.

A sigh of relief allowed her to breathe again and her heart to beat more steadily. A gentle wave touched her ankles and only then did she realise that she could not allow herself to be seen in such a situation, so she hurried back to the house. She passed through the gate but remained hidden, just over the threshold, until the stranger came out of the water safely and disappeared into one of the nearby properties.

Hours later, in the comfort of her chamber, lying in the bed next to Jane, Elizabeth was still shivering, overwhelmed by an unreasonable distress. She struggled to calm herself, repeating that she had witnessed nothing else but an unknown man taking a swim to cool himself on a warm night—probably a frequent happenstance in a seaside town.

But this voice of reason was not enough to dismiss her anxiety, and the sunrise found her tired and fretting, dizzy from too little sleep and too many emotions.

Chapter 6

Darcy woke up the next morning with a terrible headache, not surprising after another sleepless night.

The long swimming adventure had proved to be excellent relief and palliation for his discomposure, exhausting his body and relaxing his mind. But not completely, as the image of Elizabeth that had tortured him for so many months still refused to leave. While he was swimming back to the shore, he had had the distinct feeling that he had seen her at the edge of the water, a chimaera dressed in white, with the wind blowing in her hair, staring right at him as though she was waiting for him, calling to him. Of course, he knew it was only a figment of his tormented imagination, as it had proven to be moments later, when the spectre had disappeared. But the image followed him in his mind as he returned to the house, and his anguish continued until dawn.

By breakfast time, his disposition had improved and he was ready to go downstairs. The appearance of the house had already improved after only a couple of days of additional help, and he was pleased with the changes that were slowly bringing the cottage back to life.

“Mr Darcy, will Mr Bingley join you this morning? I have prepared the meal for two,” Mrs Clarke said. “Oh, and I spoke to Jenny, you know, about the matter you mentioned to me.”

“Bingley stayed overnight with some friends, so he will not join me. However, I would be delighted if you would share breakfast with me.”

“Oh, I have already eaten. But I will gladly keep you company. I hope Mr Bingley was not displeased with our accommodations?”

“Not at all, Mrs Clarke. But I suspect he was caught up in some lively entertainment and his companions would not allow him to leave. He is quite a popular gentleman, with many friends,” Darcy answered, half in jest.

“Sir, are you pleased with how we are progressing with the house? I have written to my daughter too; I still cannot believe my good fortune to have you back here, Mr Darcy!”

“I am exceedingly pleased. And this ham is delicious,” he offered.

“Thank you, I will tell Jenny—she will be very happy to hear you liked it. Oh, by the way, Jenny remembered something. She said Lady Anne was quite close to Sarah Crawford—you know, the one who keeps the Crawford Cottage now. In the past it was the Hodge Cottage, that was the name of Sarah’s parents. I forgot about it… I told you Jenny’s memory is much better. Besides, we all spent several years away from Brighton, but she has always been here, since she was a young girl.”

Darcy’s heart was now beating faster. Could there be any useful details in this new revelation?

“And Jenny said Lady Anne was also very close to the Fitzroys’ daughter, Beatrice. You know, Julia’s mother—the one who plays the pianoforte. She must be two or three years older than you. Julia, I mean.”

“I cannot recollect any of these names, or ladies,” Darcy replied, fighting with his hazy recollections.

“Well, both Sarah and Beatrice moved away when they married. I am not certain if they married before Lady Anne or afterwards, but Jenny said she can ask them. She said everybody loved Lady Anne and they will be thrilled to meet you.”

Darcy felt his cheeks flush.

“Please tell Jenny how grateful I am for this piece of information, but kindly ask her not to enquire further. I would rather keep my presence here private for the moment, as I have some unfinished business in town.”