It struck him, too, that Elizabeth afforded him with the great honour of seeking her rest in him. He could see as soon as he had arrived at Longbourn that she had scarcely slept since he had been away. Upon sitting with Mr. Bennet, Darcy understood all the more why a doting daughter would be more concerned about her father’s health than her own. Upon hearing her words to her family, though, it became clear that Elizabeth was reaching a breaking point. She would never forgive herself if she collapsed from fatigue and was unable to assist her father or family during this time. However, her mind and body needed a reprieve. Despite the urging of others, she did not relax until in his company. It was a small thing, something that defied words, but he hoped that one day he would be as dear to her as she was to him.
Earlier, when he had feared Collins had assaulted her, he had been filled with driven rage. It was not the usual fit of temper when angry. Neither was it jealousy. He would have Elizabeth even if her virtue were gone. No, it was a primal instinct of hurting the one who had wounded a person he cared about. Only when his sister had nearly eloped with a rake had he felt similarly. The relief which washed over him when Elizabeth laid his worst fears to rest had left his nerves frayed. When he had kissed her, he sought reassurance she was well and was his. In a matter of hours, she would be his until death do them part.
Elizabeth began to rouse, and his attention was drawn again to her. Dark lashes against a pale face, a pert nose, and delectable pink lips all called for him to kiss. Instead, he placed his mouth against her forehead and watched as her eyes fluttered open. At first, she smiled up at him, then embarrassment set in.
“Forgive me. I had not meant to fall asleep.” She blushed.
“It was an honour.” Darcy pressed another kiss to her forehead. “You needed the rest, and I was happy to be your pillow.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks reddened further. Clearing her throat and sitting up straight, she added, “We ought to return to the house.”
Gracefully, she pulled off Darcy’s coat and returned it to him, averting her eyes after looking him once over. Darcy let out a small chuckle.
“Are you laughing at me?” There was humour in her voice.
“Only a little. It is only fair when you so often have the upper hand on me.”
“That is true.” She smiled as he placed her hand around his arm.
“Did I offend your maidenly sensibilities?”
“I have seen a gentleman in his shirtsleeves before.”
“Your father?”
Elizabeth nodded. “And my uncle Gardiner.”
“I like him very much.” She turned to look at him, surprise evident on her face. “Truly, the Gardiners are most genteel, and I will be honoured to have them as family. Once we are settled in London, we must have them dine with us.”
Elizabeth briefly grinned before it vanished, and her face grew pensive. Sensing her thoughts, Darcy added, “You will be a fine mistress.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was small and distant—unusual for her lively self. As her father neared his death, the woman Darcy had known was disappearing. Although the thought frightened him, he reminded himself that it was part of the grieving process.
Nearing the house, Darcy returned to the drawing room to take his leave of the assembled family. Next, he desired to bid Mr. Bennet farewell. Elizabeth accompanied him. Upon entering the room, Mr. Gardiner stood and allowed Elizabeth to sit in the chair beside Bennet’s makeshift bed.
“Be sure to tell her, Darcy,” Bennet unexpectedly said.
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed to his. He had no idea at all what her father meant. Mr. Bennet struggled to say more, and Elizabeth soothed his coughing fit. Once settled, he attempted to speak again.
“You have my word,” Darcy told the man rather than see him suffer once again. “Rest now, sir.” Then with a bow to the gentlemen and a kiss to Elizabeth’s hand, he departed for Netherfield.
Chapter Ten
The autumn chill stole around Elizabeth as she sat in a chair beside her father’s bed. Bone weariness sapped her of strength, and she might have ignored the cold but she feared for her father. She must be certain her father was sufficiently covered and then poke the fire before returning to slumber.
Sunshine barely peeked through the window, evident earlier in the day as the trees had shed their leaves. Outside, a bird chirped a cheery tune. As the fog of sleep left Elizabeth, she recognised, with growing dread, that the cold she felt emanated from the icy grip of her father’s hand around her fingers.
“Papa?” Elizabeth whispered more as a prayer than an attempt to wake him.
Vainly, she watched for a slow breath to raise his chest. Squeezing his hand, she felt no indication of life in the digits surrounding hers. Through tear-filled eyes, she viewed his face, his lips now slightly blue.
“Papa!” Elizabeth threw herself on his chest and sobbed.
Underlying the nearly insensible grief that consumed her, one thought filled Elizabeth with sorrow above all others. The person who best understood her and accepted her follies and foibles was now gone from the world. They had shared a thousand secret jokes and sly glances. They could speak to one another with a look or expression more than mere words.
Elizabeth loved her sisters and mother. Jane was the sweetest creature in all the earth. Lydia and Kitty at least understood Elizabeth’s more vivacious ways. Mary appreciated Elizabeth’s disdain for their mother’s matchmaking and the importance of reading. As a friend, Charlotte Lucas complemented Elizabeth perfectly. However, none of those qualities had ever made Elizabeth feel as though she could be her entire self. She was sometimes too sarcastic for Jane, too severe for her youngest sisters, and too lively for Mary. Charlotte disapproved of Elizabeth’s romantic sensibilities. Mrs. Bennet looked upon her second daughter’s ways as entirely foreign.
Mr. Bennet was the only person who had seen Elizabeth’s every facet and welcomed each part without reproach. Perhaps it was selfish of her to love him so fiercely based upon his acceptance of her, but it was the truth nonetheless, and Elizabeth keenly felt the loss.
Unaware of how many hours she had cried upon her father’s still chest, the sun was far higher in the sky when she heard the first sounds of others awake in the house. The servants had taken to waiting until summoned by Elizabeth to enter the room. Therefore, when she heard a quiet knock, she knew it was most likely Mr. or Mrs. Gardiner. A moment later, the door creaked open. Elizabeth did not look up, but she heard in the sudden cessation of footsteps the moment the person became aware of Mr. Bennet’s death.
“My dear,” Mr. Gardiner whispered after laying a hand upon her shoulder. “It looks as though he went peacefully. Was it in his sleep?”
Elizabeth managed a barely perceptible nod.
“And you were with him, just as you and he wished. Had you fallen asleep, too?”
Unable to speak, she only nodded once more.
“Then all was well in his mind. His final wish was only for you to rest and find solace in his passing.”
“There can be no solace,” she whispered. “He went too early. We ought to have had more time with him.” She ought to have had more time with him.
“Grief is the price we pay for having loved. You loved him deeply, and you will mourn just as deep.”
A shudder wracked Elizabeth’s frame at the words. Heaven help her if it were as deep as the love she had for her father. It would consume her, swallow her up into a black abyss.
“Let me call Meg and the maid. The servants will have to call the undertaker to begin preparing his body. Meg will see to you and inform the others.”
Elizabeth remained mute as her uncle went on about the various actions that needed to happen.
“Now, what shall we do about Mr. Darcy? I did not have time to speak with you yesterday, and it seemed you got along well, but you need not marry him. At the very least, we can delay the wedding.”
It was too much for Elizabeth. She could not think of marriage and the impe
nding ceremony at present. With trembling lips and tear-filled eyes, she shook her head, sending the tears flying.
“Come, come,” Mr. Gardiner said. “Meg will set you to rights.”
Evidently uncomfortable with her tears, he left in favour of finding his wife and the housekeeper, leaving Elizabeth alone once more with her sorrow. The silence was a blessing.
A few moments later, Mrs. Gardiner came with open arms and embraced her niece. Finding some measure of comfort in her aunt, Elizabeth lost track of time and the people who entered and exited the room until her aunt shook her shoulders.
“Lizzy, we must leave the room and allow them space.”
Looking at the doorway, Elizabeth saw the local undertaker. She was to leave her father? How could she leave him and never see him again?
“It is not truly goodbye,” Mrs. Gardiner said as though she read her niece’s thoughts. “You will see him again before the funeral.”
Fat tears streaked down her cheek, burning a path on her now-swollen face. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek. “I love you, Papa,” she whispered. Finally, she let go of his cold hand, knowing it was the last time she would have his touch upon her.
Mrs. Gardiner wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder and led her up the stairs. On the landing, she saw the door to her mother’s chamber cracked open. Instead of the loud wailing she had expected from Mrs. Bennet, she saw her mother sitting and staring off into space.
“Does my mother not know?” Elizabeth asked her aunt.
“Yes, she knows. Your uncle and I informed all of your sisters as well.”
Silently, they continued on to the room Elizabeth shared with Jane, who greeted her with open arms. After a few minutes of silent embrace, they moved towards their bed, and Mrs. Gardiner left them to see to further matters. Soon after, Mary crept into the room, followed by Kitty and Lydia. The five sisters huddled together on the bed with Elizabeth in the middle. She had thought she was alone after her father’s death, but although none of them spoke, Elizabeth began to realise she was not the only one grieving.
*****
At Netherfield, Darcy was just breaking his fast when a servant arrived, holding a note with a black seal for Darcy. All the eyes drew to him.
“It is from Longbourn,” he said in answer to their unsaid question.
Darcy frowned as he read Mr. Gardiner’s short missive. Turning to a footman, he ordered his horse.
“Is it bad, Darcy?” Bingley asked.
“Mr. Bennet passed in his sleep. I must go to Elizabeth.”
“Surely not,” Miss Bingley said when Darcy pushed his chair back.
“Pardon me?”
“A woman in grief does not need the company of a suitor. Any daughter who has loved her father”—Miss Bingley glanced at her plate for a moment before continuing—“would not be in suitable condition for company upon his passing. She needs time.”
“Thank you for considering her feelings, Miss Bingley. It does you credit.” It had surprised him, but he supposed being away in Town during the worst of her reaction had been helpful. “However, I am not merely company. I was to wed her today and shall, God willing, one day be her husband. I must offer my support, even if she will not see me.”
“I will go with you.” Bingley stood.
Darcy merely raised a brow in question to his friend. His going to Longbourn would signal that he intended to become a member of the family. There would be no going back and changing his mind later.
“I am determined,” Bingley said, giving him all the answer Darcy needed.
“Give our condolences,” Mrs. Hurst said before they left the room.
Pushing their horses faster than they generally did, the two gentlemen arrived at Longbourn in a matter of minutes. They did not wait for a servant to open the door.
“Elizabeth?” Darcy called in the hall, breaking the strange silence.
Mrs. Gardiner appeared. “Mr. Darcy, thank you for coming. If you follow me to the drawing room, my husband will speak with you.”
“I wish to see Elizabeth.”
She nodded. “I understand, sir, but she may not be willing to see you or anyone else. She has, understandably, been upset.”
Darcy nodded. He knew she had been close to her father, and Elizabeth’s melancholy would be deeper than one day or even one year could heal.
“Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth’s voice from the top of the stairs drew their notice.
Darcy raced to her side, taking the steps two at a time. He could think of nothing to say. He knew too well there was nothing he could say which would offer any sort of comfort. All the standard niceties were not appropriate either. He need not ask if she were well; he could see she was not. Instead, he simply gathered her hands in his.
“I am so extremely sorry,” he said.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner said from the bottom of the stairs, “if you are feeling up to it, we should speak with Mr. Darcy about the arrangements. Might you show him to the drawing room while I order the tea and see to our other guest?” She glanced at Mr. Bingley who stepped forward to introduce himself as Darcy and Elizabeth were preoccupied.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and nodded. She stumbled after a step, and Darcy caught her to him. He looped her arm around his and murmured close to her ear. “There is no need to be the hostess. I know you are feeling unfathomable loss just now.”
Slowly, they made their way to the appropriate chamber and waited for the Gardiners to enter. Once seated, Darcy held Elizabeth’s hand once more.
“You are freezing, darling.”
“I cannot get warm.”
Casting his eyes about the room, Darcy found a shawl draped over a chair near the window. He placed it around Elizabeth’s shoulders and stoked the fire before returning to his seat. Once there, he wrapped an arm around Elizabeth and hugged her close to his side. Propriety mattered naught to him despite the surprised glances from Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner when they entered.
“Well,” Mr. Gardiner said once the maid had brought the tea and shut the door after leaving, “I know the timing is inconvenient, but we had better settle this once and for all.”
“My dear,” Mrs. Gardiner said, and her husband sighed before taking a biscuit and leaning back in his chair, “what your uncle means to say, Elizabeth, is that it is noble of you to believe matrimony is the only course to assist your family in this time. We had thought this was a match of affection and were shocked to hear from your father that it is merely convenience.”
Mrs. Gardiner shook her head in disbelief before frowning at her niece. “How could you think it? Your uncle and I, as well as your aunt and uncle Phillips, are prepared to see to you all, and surely Mr. Collins will allow you time to grieve.”
“Mr. Collins lies in wait at the inn after we all but retracted his invitation to stay,” Elizabeth said. “In fact, it was under the guise of chaperonage that he left. I would not be surprised if he returns once he hears that you all are here. There is no need for us to be poor relations and the subject of pity. If I marry Mr. Darcy, then my sisters and mother can stay in one home and in the community of their birth.”
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner said nothing in response to Elizabeth’s speech. Instead, they turned their eyes upon Darcy with expectant faces. Always the one to take the honourable path, no matter the amount of personal sacrifice it took, Darcy released Elizabeth from his embrace. “As much as it pains me to say this, your relations are correct. Your family will be seen to without our marriage, and I will do everything in my power to make the transition as painless as possible. I understand my aunt holds considerable influence over Mr. Collins. Marrying me is not the only way to see to your family, and I apologise if I ever used your distress to my advantage.”
“What do you mean by that?” Elizabeth asked, confusion in her voice and her eyes.
“I desired you for my wife. I have explained my numerous reasons for such. I offered mysel
f as a viable alternative to Mr. Collins when you had decided to accept his proposal. Perhaps I ought to have talked you out of the idea of marriage at all.”
Elizabeth laid a still frigid hand above Darcy’s and squeezed. “I was not unaware that you used the situation to your advantage. However, you did not coerce me. I have had many days to consider the options and believe this is the best route. My father taught me to honour my promises, and I have promised to marry you. He gave his blessing and made no argument against it. In his final days, he regarded you as a son. I will honour his memory by becoming your wife.”
Darcy’s heart triumphed at Elizabeth’s words. It was not a declaration of love or anything of the sort. However, she did not sound as mournful about it as she had in the past. Perhaps that was because her sorrow was now more fixed upon her father’s death, but Darcy rejoiced just the same. He raised her hand to his lips and bestowed a gentle kiss before tucking her back against his side. His hand rubbed her arm, attempting to give her more warmth.
“Very well.” Mr. Gardiner sighed. “I admit that I would rather have the satisfaction of helping my sister, but we always knew the girls would marry and find husbands. Now, about the date—”
“There is no reason to change it,” Elizabeth said, a bit of her old self re-emerging. “We must marry today or wait until my half-mourning is over. Why wait for so long? Papa had selected this day, and he nearly made it. In fact, perhaps he allowed himself to go so peacefully on this morning when it had been such a struggle for him to live the last week.”
“The official mourning is to begin tomorrow, but I fear it is not very romantic to have a bride’s face swollen with tears,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Also, your wedding day would forever be mingled with memories of your father’s passing. One should be a day of joy to be celebrated every year. With the latter, your pain should lessen in time. This would be a constant reminder.”
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