Page 162 of Bitterness of Spirit & The Painting

There was nothing more to be said for the moment, and they returned home in silence. Elizabeth entered her house first and Darcy walked on, absently, torn between the deepest bliss and a powerful sorrow that would not go away.

∞∞∞

The extraordinary encounter with Elizabeth kept Darcy awake for the rest of the night. His restlessness kept sleep away so he welcomed the first appearance of dawn. His mind and his soul were so full of her that he could hardly think of anything else. He wondered if he should have proposed to her right there; she had indicated clearly enough that she would not oppose it. She was so sweet, so tender, so caring that he could not doubt her opinion of him. But she had also said that she still needed time to know her own heart. Even if his own desires and eagerness demanded it, how could he have proposed after she so generously comforted him, advised him, supported him in the hardest challenge of his life?

His reflections ceased as soon as he heard movement in the house, and he called for a maid, asking for coffee. Bingley woke up earlier than usual, too. The second day of his engagement found him joyful and impatient to see his betrothed again, so he barely ate breakfast.

“Darcy, will you join me in calling on Miss Bennet? Did I mention that I will escort Miss Bennet back to Hertfordshire? I must write to my steward today, to open Netherfield.”

“Excellent, Bingley. I will join you a little later. I absolutely must speak to Julia first, but I will not be long.”

“I hope you will not disappear again!”

“Not at all, I assure you!”

Chapter 14

While Bingley headed towards the Crawford cottage, Darcy stopped at the Fitzroys’. From the house he heard voices, so he knocked. Eventually, Julia appeared in the hall and hurried to greet him.

“Dear Lord, where were you yesterday? We were so worried about you! I could only sleep after I saw Stevens and he told me you had returned. Are you well?”

“Yes, thank you. Please, could we speak privately for a moment?”

“Of course. Would you like to come in? My uncle told me you were here yesterday and saved the kitten once again. What shall we do when you are gone?” she jested.

Darcy forced a smile.

“Julia, you did not mention your uncle until now.”

“My uncle? Of course I did. I have lived with him since my mother passed away. As you might have noticed, he needs our care.”

“May I ask…how did he lose his sight?”

She seemed puzzled by his enquiry.

“He suffered a wound in India, in the war. He and my father both joined the army when they were young. They were cousins. Uncle Samuel was only eighteen years old at that time; my father was four years older. They were both injured and were brought back to England on a ship. My father recovered almost entirely and he was offered another commission within the country. I was told they believed Uncle Samuel was healing too, but then suddenly he claimed some headaches and then he slowly began to lose his sight.”

Darcy struggled to catch all the details and put them together. “I assume you were very young then.”

“My parents were only engaged at that time. They married during my uncle and father’s recovery.

“And your father returned to the army, while your uncle remained at home?”

“Yes. For as long as I can remember, Uncle Samuel has struggled with his health.”

“He is fortunate to have you to take care of him.”

“We are fortunate to have him too. Despite his poor health, he has always been a most talented artist.”

“Has he?”

“Yes! He played the pianoforte exceedingly well. And he was even more talented at painting. My mother said even Lady Anne admired his talent very much and they often practiced music or drawing together. Even after he lost his sight entirely, he continued to paint.”

Darcy’s voice trembled as he answered, “Yes, I noticed the paintings. Most of them depict the sea. I assume he has lived here all his life.”

“No, not at all. This is his parents’ home and he inherited it after my grandfather’s death. But he moved to Bath to live with some relatives when I was an infant. He said there were better doctors there. I only saw him a few times when I was very young. He returned when I was eighteen years old, I believe—and has never left since.”

When Julia was eighteen, he was fifteen. The year Lady Anne had passed away. It was all clear. What more certainty did he need? It was time to close his quest.