By Reason, by Reflection, by Everything

by P. O. Dixon

  Hearing it from someone else would be the worst way possible for him to learn about the elopement.

  Heaven forbid that he should receive this intelligence while he was with his friend, the older Mr. Darcy, whom Elizabeth knew to be more and more frequently in each other’s company of late.

  Who is to say what measure the strain something of this nature might place on their friendship?

  Elizabeth set off for the library, hoping she would find her father there, reading contentedly while surrounded by a number of tomes meant to divert him throughout the course of the day. No doubt her news would be the means of abruptly ending their stay at Pemberley. It was entirely possible that her father might insist upon the two of them packing their belongings and leaving Pemberley post haste.

  There was also the possibility that her father might insist upon following his eldest daughter in the hopes of preventing a hasty alliance with a young man they barely knew.

  Surely he would see the folly in such an endeavor. Why risk marring something that is otherwise, dare I say it, romantic and adventurous with the scandal of a heated pursuit? Jane is of age. Even if she had run off with a scoundrel, she is within her legal right to do so.

  Only she did not run off with a scoundrel. Jane Bennet had made what all their friends and neighbors in Hertfordshire would consider an excellent match.

  Yes, Elizabeth’s mother might at first complain of the injustice of it all - how she had been robbed of the prospect of having a daughter who was the future mistress of one of the finest estates in all of Derbyshire.

  On the other hand, how soon her protests will be quieted when she learns that the young man who has married her daughter is handsome and agreeable and has five thousand pounds a year.

  Now standing just outside the library, fashioning the words to say to her father to explain what all had happened during the night, Elizabeth prayed he would view what had transpired in a similar light as her mother most certainly would when she learned of the truth.

  This is a very good thing for our family—a very good thing. How we manage things over the course of the next several hours and days will make all the difference in terms of how society, in general, will react.

  Upon entering the library, Elizabeth’s eye immediately darted to the part of the room where she had taught herself to find her papa. He was not there. Walking a bit further, she commenced looking side to side in hopes of finding him. It was no surprise to her that the library was not teeming with people. Other than her father and, of course, herself, Pemberley’s guests did not make very good use of the room.

  She did on occasion espy the younger Mr. Darcy either in the stacks seeking his next reading escape or sitting by a large window, overlooking a garden deeply immersed in a book. Thus it hardly came as a surprise to her to see him that morning. His attitude, however, was completely altered. He sat in his usual chair, both of his hands covering his face, his clothing in some disarray.

  Perchance he has read Mr. Bingley’s letter already, she considered. Perchance that is the cause of his altered state. Her curiosity to find out what she did not know would not be repressed. She would speak with her father in due time, but first, she needed to speak with Mr. Darcy.

  One tentative step after another led her to where he sat. His manner was so different—more akin to distraught. She called out his name to summon his attention, even as she was concerned that she might be one of the last people on Earth he wished to see.

  “Mr. Darcy.”

  He lowered his hands and in so doing, confirmed Elizabeth’s supposition that something was terribly amiss.

  Is this the look of a betrayed man? She somehow sensed it was something more. Lowering his head, he spread his fingers over his eyes. He then stood abruptly.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said. Remembering himself, he bowed slightly. Throwing a cursory glance about the room, he said, “I suppose you are looking for your father. He is not here. He is with my father.” His voice was clearly affected and heavy with sorrow.

  Tears she did not expect welled in her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Darcy,” she cried, “How can I make amends?”

  He shook his head slightly as though he had missed a significant part of the conversation. “Make amends? Whatever for, Miss Elizabeth?”

  She drew a sharp breath. “Sir, do you not know?”

  At that moment, a footman entered the library and approached them. Bearing a silver salver, he bowed before the gentleman. “A letter for you, Sir.”

  Mr. Darcy took the letter and with a slight nod of his head in gratitude, silently ordered the servant to be on his way. He looked at the missive which from Elizabeth’s vantage point seemed very much like the one she had received from her sister — the greatest difference being that it was not nearly so pristine.

  Frowning a bit, Mr. Darcy then placed the letter on the table beside him.

  “Are you not going to read that, Mr. Darcy?”

  “It is a missive from my friend Bingley. I believe it can wait. If I may, I wish to ask you again what was your purpose in saying you wish to make amends?”

  “Sir, perhaps you ought to read your friend’s letter first.”

  He gave the letter a cursory glance and then looked back at Elizabeth. “The letter can wait. No doubt, Bingley writes to tell me that he has gone off on some hastily conceived mission. It is just like him to decide on a thing in one breath and act on it in the next.”

  Elizabeth felt the color spread over her body. Were she to judge by Mr. Darcy’s expression, he noticed it too.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “you look ill. Pray have a seat.” He gestured toward the spot next to where he sat moments earlier. “Shall I bring you a glass of wine?”

  Sitting, she said, “There is nothing much the matter with me. At least nothing having to do with my health.” She could not help staring at the unread missive on the table.

  “What is it about this letter that concerns you so?”

  “Sir, I really do think you ought to read what Mr. Bingley has to say.”

  Taking his place next to her on the sofa, Darcy reached for the letter. “If it will make that much of a difference to you, I shall.” He tore open the seal and commenced reading. Despite the blots of ink on nearly every line that were visible even from Elizabeth’s vantage point, Mr. Darcy read it without tearing his eyes away for even a second.

  At length, he turned his head aside slightly, and holding the letter loosely in one hand, he massaged his temple using the other. Drawing a deep breath, he exhaled audibly and then folded the letter and placed it aside. Standing, he walked to the window and peered outside. After a long stretch of silence, Elizabeth followed him.

  He turned to her. “I am very happy for my friend and your sister.”

  This was not the response she had expected to receive nor the words she had expected to hear.

  Mr. Darcy said, “Their temperaments are so very much alike. I can think of no two people more suited for each other.”

  His indifference astounded her. Jane’s words reverberated in his mind: “—an equally honorable gentleman whose heart, I suspect, will never ever be touched? At least not by me.”

  The colonel’s words echoed through her mind: “My cousin has remained a single man for so long as he has by design.”

  “I fear you think I am heartless,” he said in response to Elizabeth’s silence.

  “No, sir. I am simply confused. When I first saw you upon entering the library, you looked so downhearted. You said my father was with your father. I thought surely that something was terribly amiss. In fact, I know something is amiss. If not your friend’s elopement with my sister, then what is it? What is the matter?”

  He bit his lowered lip as if contemplating what he might say in response to her bevy of questions. He seemed about to make a start, but then he stopped.

  She reached out her hand to him. He seized it, giving her some indication that he wanted to tell her what the matter was, but he did not know how to tel
l her.

  At length, he covered her hand with both of his. “Miss Elizabeth, I am afraid I have been harboring a secret that has to do with my father. You see, he is gravely ill. I have known this for months, having learned of the truth quite by accident. Even he did not know I was aware of his secret.

  “His situation took a turn for the worse in the early hours of the morning, at which point I was summoned to his side. No one else knows that he is in the final hours of his life other than your father and George Wickham. I left my father some time ago with Wickham while I came in search of Mr. Bennet, who has since gone to my father’s bedside. Soon, I shall have to speak with Georgiana to prepare her for what is to come. Before you arrived, I was summoning my courage — searching for the right words to convey to her that our father—that he is dying.”

  Elizabeth retrieved a linen handkerchief from her pocket. She reached up and gently dabbed a lonely teardrop falling from his eye. How it pained her to see him this way. How saddened she was by his revelation, and yet how touching to know that he was confiding in her something so personal and so devastating.

  Taking her hand, he brushed a light kiss across her palm.

  “There is so much more that I would say to you, Miss Elizabeth, but I fear now is not the time.” He fingered an errant lock of her hair that had fallen across her face. “Thank you for listening to me. Now, I must speak with my sister.”

  Elizabeth watched as the gentleman walked away, wishing there was something, anything she might say or do to ease his burden. Having never experienced the pain of losing a parent, she felt utterly helpless.

  What am I to do? What am I to say?

  She swallowed, fighting back her tears. In such cases as this sorry hardly seems an adequate word. Jane’s words reverberated in her mind once again: “I have no doubt that your courage will rise to whatever occasion that results, just as it always does during those times that matter most.”

  As heartbroken as Elizabeth was, she did not intend to let her own concerns overshadow those of the people whom she had come to care for in such a short period. She knew that she might soon be saying goodbye to the Darcys, but she was there now, and they needed her like no one had ever needed her before.

  I must do everything in my power to be of comfort to Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy during this, their greatest time of need.

  Chapter 22

  Arts and Allurements

  Bingley’s sisters were also in possession of an urgent missive, and now that Mr. Darcy was safe from the likes of Jane Bennet, Miss Bingley was free to express the depths of her contempt to whoever would listen.

  “How could I possibly have thought it was a good idea for Charles to divert that woman’s attention away from Mr. Darcy?” Miss Bingley complained.

  “Caroline, you must not be too severe on yourself. It was a good plan, and it was working up to a point.”

  “Indeed, up to the point where he decided to elope with her, effectively ending my hopes for an alliance between Miss Darcy and him.”

  “How could you have known that he would fall in love with Jane?”

  “Love! I dare say that particular emotion has nothing at all to do with this travesty. Seeing that she stood no chance of garnering Mr. Darcy’s affections because of his feelings for me, she used her feminine arts and allurements to ensnare our unsuspecting brother. She drew him in, and now we must forever consider ourselves tied to the likes of those horrible people who lack everything that is most desired among our society.”

  “Caroline, you speak as though it is the end of the world. I assure you there are far worse things that might have happened. She is a gentleman’s daughter, which must surely count for something. What is more, she is very agreeable. I am certain our brother will be quite happy with her.”

  Miss Bingley looked at her sister in dismay. “Do you mean to say that you have accepted this—that you will welcome that woman as our sister?”

  “I do not see that I have a choice—unless she and Charles changed their minds. That would make for a far worse scandal. No doubt, he would then be obliged to marry her anyway else both of their reputations would be ruined. What would that do for your prospects for an alliance with your Mr. Darcy?”

  “You make a fine point, Louisa, I am sure. But that is not to say that I must like this situation one little bit, nor does it mean that I should embrace that little chit. Indeed, I shall go out of my way to see that she suffers for persuading our brother to marry her.”

  “Oh, Caroline,” Mrs. Hurst cried.

  “Do not judge me, Louisa. I will not abide it,” responded Miss Bingley. Voices outside the doorway drew both ladies’ attention, which put an end to the discussion.

  * * *

  Seconds later, Elizabeth walked into the room. The Bingley sisters were the last people she wished to see, but it could not be helped. If she suffered but one degree of disappointment for Jane, it was that she must forever consider those two her sisters.

  Clutching the crumpled missive in her hand, Miss Bingley stood abruptly and marched straight to Elizabeth, stopping just inches away. “No doubt you are very proud of yourself.”

  “If what you mean to say is I am happy for my sister, you speak correctly. I could not be happier that she is to be married to a decent and honorable man who also happens to be the man she loves.”

  “Love!” Miss Bingley screamed. “I declare if I hear one more person utter that word in connection with this travesty, I shall not be responsible for my conduct.”

  “I am certain that how you conduct yourself can have no bearing whatsoever on me. I have said it once, and I shall continue to say it so often as I please. I know my sister very well. Nothing but the deepest love would have compelled her to go away with your brother to be married in Scotland.” Elizabeth crossed one arm over the other. “There, I said it. Jane loves him and he loves her. Hate my sister, if you dare. I am certain as the wife of Mr. Charles Bingley she shall have no cause to repine, and the opinion of even those who are so closely connected to him as you cannot lessen their admiration for each other.”

  “I suppose you have this all sorted out. No doubt, you have written to all your family congratulating yourselves on what a victory it is to be connected by marriage to a gentleman with five thousand pounds a year.”

  “I will not deny that this marriage is a cause for great joy, but you are woefully mistaken if you suppose that your brother’s fortune was an inducement for my sister. How dare you give your own brother so little credit.”

  “You know nothing at all about my brother. Neither does your sister, for that matter, for if she did she would know that he tends to fall in love with every young lady whom he meets so long as she has an angelic countenance — the face of an angel — as he always waxes poetically. Your sister may have married him, but if she supposes for one second that she will keep his interest from straying to the next angel who crosses his path, she will be severely disappointed.”

  Elizabeth was a bit taken aback by this intelligence. Could Mr. Bingley truly be as fickle as his sister suggested? She did not intend to let her adversary know how much she had been affected by this troubling account.

  “Those are grave faults in one’s character, indeed, if they are even true, but as your brother has never actually eloped with any one of the angels that preceded my sister, I have every reason to believe he did not love them. His marrying my sister is all the evidence that I need to trust that what he feels for Jane is beyond comparison to anything he may or may not have felt for anyone in the past.”

  Elizabeth grew quite weary of arguing the matter with Miss Bingley. In her mind, Jane’s situation was settled. Nothing would come from dwelling on it, especially considering what was likely transpiring upstairs with the Darcys.

  Her mind in a tumult, she turned and headed out the parlor door, nearly bowling over Mr. Bingley’s brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, in the process. “Oh, get out of my way!” she shouted.

  Well on her way, Elizabeth heard him a
sk, “Heavens! What on Earth was that about?”

  Thinking she ought not to have taken out her frustrations on the poor gentleman, she thought to turn and offer some sort of apology. Changing her mind, she covered her face with both hands for a second or two to calm herself and then moved hastily toward the doorway leading outside the manor house.

  Time and distance away from her sister’s future in-laws were what she needed most. Nothing but a brisk walk around the park would do for she needed to think. Not only would she need to provide comfort to the Darcys in any way she could, but there was also the matter of comforting her dear father. How different things had turned out during their stay in Derbyshire. Indeed, Mr. Bennet was gaining a son-in-law, but he was also losing a dear old friend.

  Chapter 23

  Final Moments

  Often spoken words of praise now seemed quite daunting: “He is the best landlord and the best master. There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give him a good name.”

  Such were the sentiments Darcy had heard being ascribed to his father for as long as he could recall.

  I must endeavor to step into my father’s role in a manner that would make him proud. I believe I am ready. I have been preparing for this my entire life, and in the face of it all, my greatest wish is to have more time with my father.

  Darcy pushed open the door to his father’s room. The dimly lit room, the somber air, his father’s life slipping away, and in the midst of it all sat George Wickham, clutching the dying man’s hand.

  “Leave us,” Darcy said. His commanding voice prompted his father to open his eyes.

  Hesitating, Wickham threw his godfather an inquiring look. The older man nodded, albeit nearly imperceptibly.