That night she found out that love could be such a steadfast and possessive feeling that even the most honest man or woman could make mistakes in its name. She wanted to be in Darcy’s bed—to feel his hands on her body but also she wanted to be the mistress of his house and the mother of his children.
She was ashamed of herself, of her selfishness, of her happiness as opposed to Jane’s agony. And all she could do was to keep the covenant.
The only way to be with Darcy was to convince Mr Bingley to return to Jane.
Chapter 7
Leaving the Parsonage was a relief for all. Still very angry, Mr Collins said his goodbyes in the evening on the pretext of some urgent matters early in the morning.
At least Elizabeth would be sincerely sorry to leave her friend in the morning when they said farewell. If they were to meet again, it would be only in Hertfordshire. Elizabeth did not imagine ever returning as a guest in the Collinses’ house. It was a pleasant stay for most of the time, but it ended with much tension and her cousin was a man who rarely forgave.
Charlotte and her unhappy life were quickly forgotten when she saw the two horsemen waiting for her carriage at the park’s gate. Her heart sang in happiness. It was no more than a four hours ride, but she was sure they would stop and she would have the chance to speak to Darcy. The whole centre of her life moved in her love and it engulfed anything else.
They decided to make a halt at an inn at a two-hour distance. Until then, she wanted to relax and to admire the splendid landscapes they were crossing, to indulge in a state of peace and finally think about her love. When she had arrived in Hunsford, it was still early spring while now the season was in its full glory.
She had travelled in the past. But there were never as many problems as in this short ride of four hours. She suspected there were no real problems, but Darcy tried—with his cousin’s tender complicity—to make that ride last as long as he could.
First, they stopped when the colonel saw that a horse had problems with its shoe. As by chance, they were on the border of a blooming apple tree orchard in all its splendour. Elizabeth got down helped by Darcy and walked among the orchard admiring the almost unreal beauty of the trees all dressed in white and visited by hundreds of bees.
“I wrote a letter, Elizabeth!” he said.
Surprise Elizabeth took the letter he handed her. She made a gesture to open it, but his laughter and his hands stopped her. “It is not for you, don’t you ever read the recipient?” His voice was so happy that she began to smile while admiring his regular and firm writing.
It was for her uncle.
“I invited you all to dinner the day after tomorrow. I will have time to invite Bingley and I hope that during that evening Miss Jane will discuss the situation with my friend…and solve the misconceptions. I will see that they benefit from a moment of intimacy.”
“I am sure you will succeed.” There was a gist of irony in her words as she looked at how hard the colonel was working with the coachman and the other servant for their moment of intimacy.
“My sweet fiancée has an untamed tongue!” he scolded her.
An unexpected cloud passed over her face, “I am not your fiancée,” she whispered.
“What are you talking about, of course, you are, we have a covenant.”
“Yes, that we will be betrothed as soon as Jane is happy again.”
“That we will be married not only betrothed.”
“Yes, married,” she agreed and Darcy could breathe again. “But what I do not understand is why we could not be betrothed secretly until…”
“No!” Elizabeth said, with much determination. “A secret engagement is a serious moral lapse because it denies the public nature of the marriage. I want us to abide by all the rules and never endanger our future…and happiness.”
Elizabeth could not decipher the expression on his face and she realised that it would take time until they came to know each other. She waited for him to speak and he did…smilingly. “This happens when a poor man falls in love with a woman who spent her life in a library!”
“Oh, do not be so silly, I also know how to run a house.”
However, she was not so sure about telling the truth in that direction. Their house had only eight or ten rooms while his houses were more like Rosings—mansions with dozens of servants.
“It is not exactly what I expect from you after our marriage,” he whispered in her ear as they approached the carriage which was finally ready to depart.
“What are you…” but she stopped in the middle of the sentence seeing his eyes that told her where they would be for a long time after their marriage.
“Darcy!” she said with reproach and violently blushed.
But then, one in the carriage and the other on the horse, they could not but continue the dream from his eyes.
Darcy thought of her words about engagement; she was one of the most accomplished young women he had ever met. He had a feeling that his Elizabeth would blossom in his bed as the orchard they passed by only minutes before. This intelligent and independent woman trembled at his mild caresses, and he remembered how she shivered when he touched her at his aunt’s dinner. There was in her body an expectation opened since they declared their love. He did not doubt that she would be an accomplished wife and an excellent mother. Still, he wanted the secret Elizabeth that not even she knew—yet—that existed. He realised he had never said “I love you,” and decided that the carriage would have to break down soon.
On her part, Elizabeth forgot about the summer and the landscape. With her eyes closed, she remembered how he almost touched her neck when he whispered and the incredible answer of her body. It was a triumphant shiver that made her yearn to know what being a woman meant.
They stopped at a small inn to refresh and have a light breakfast. Darcy and the colonel ate and laughed, remembering the pranks they played on Aunt Catherine when they were young boys. Their excited, light-hearted chatter that made Elizabeth laugh with them. She tried to imagine Darcy as a little boy and then the colonel but the image blurred as instead she could see her child and Darcy’s, playing on Pemberley’s lawn.
It was the first time in her life when she wanted everything from a man—to live with him and love him and make him beautiful children. She blushed at that thought and decided not to feel any more on those terms about their future, but it was impossible. She wanted to unveil the secret of her wedding night, and that sole feeling swept anything else from her mind and heart.
They stopped once again for a wheel that had some problems. She walked with him in the tree thicket, far away from the men who were working. Something was going to happen. Elizabeth was ready when he kissed her hand, she just closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling. Then he gently leant her against a tree and slightly touched her lips. It was only a mist of a kiss—it was not the first in her life—but it was by far the most perfect. Close to her lips, his eyes looking deeply into hers, he said, “I love you!”
She was relieved to feel that the tree was supporting her otherwise most surely she would have fallen at the power of her inner answer. He took her into his arms, so tightly embraced that she could hardly breathe, “I cannot breathe,” she said but she did not make any move to escape. “Neither can I,” he whispered at her ear, and they both laughed.
As they returned, she looked at him, he was so elegant and proud yet infinitely gentle in movements and the way he kissed her. He exuded power when he rode or when he spoke, but with her, he was tender and sensitive.
Once in the carriage, she remembered how she kissed with Wickham and shivered in disgust. His lips were wet and limp, and he attempted to open her mouth when she ran from him. It was so savage and unkind that she wanted to forget. At that moment, she decided not to continue the relationship with him. Knowing so much more about him, she realised that for him she was only a game…in every sense.
She cancelled forever from her mind that image and the horrible sensations now that she had Darcy’s
kiss. For them, it was only the beginning, but how well he knew not to press her, to make her want more and not impose his desire on her.
Chapter 8
They arrived in London in the early afternoon. Darcy’s letter proved not to be necessary as her uncle welcomed them in front of their house and warmly invited the two gentlemen in for tea. “Or a drink,” Mr Gardiner said to the colonel who gladly accepted.
Darcy witnessed in silence the happiness of the two sisters who dearly embraced for a long moment. Then Jane bowed and Darcy could not discern any sign of dislike towards him. On the contrary, Mrs Gardiner warmly smiled when she asked them into her parlour.
It was the best moment to invite the Gardiners to dinner and with great pleasure, his invitation was accepted.
Secretly Jane hoped that his friend might also be present and her mood considerably improved. It was the first thing she told her sister as soon as they retired to their room. Before Elizabeth could speak, she held her in her arms and said, “Thank you for bringing Mr Darcy here.”
It was an awkward moment for Elizabeth, but she tried to smile.
“Do not you see?” Jane cried. “It is possible that at Mr Darcy’s dinner we will also meet his friend…Mr Bingley.” And she forgot about her months of sadness and grief, preoccupied only about her dress and the hairstyle she would wear.
“Stop, my dear,” Elizabeth said with much caution, “let us not imagine so far. Please, I do not want you to be disappointed. It may be Mr Bingley will be there, but it is not sure.”
But Jane was hard to convince. “It is more than tomorrow night. You are now on better terms with Mr Darcy. We can meet Mr Bingley in other circumstances, at another dinner, even ask Uncle Gardiner to invite him here. It is the best news in months and all because of you. You overcame your antipathy for Mr Darcy and this is to my advantage, thank you, little sister!”
Jane danced around the room as Elizabeth had not seen her do in a long time. She was again glowing, her natural beauty at its best.
Elizabeth, still distraught, tried in vain to temper her. Her shy sister was full of life again, and it was all because of love.
“My dear, did you ever think that it is possible when you meet him there will be no flame anymore?”
“No, I am sure he has a reason for staying away, maybe a long engagement he had to attend to, or an illness…”
Elizabeth looked with desperation at her. Jane was not in a healthy state of mind.
She attempted to tell her about the trip and Charlotte, but Jane was no longer interested. She listened for a half an hour, but the words did not touch her. She was floating on a cloud while Elizabeth wondered what would happen if Darcy did not find his friend or—even more horrible—if Mr Bingley was no longer interested in Jane.
As soon as her sister left her, Elizabeth ran to her aunt who was impatiently waiting in her drawing-room.
“Come sit, my dear, I cannot wait to hear all.”
The letter she received provided a chaotic description of the situation. In one sentence, Elizabeth was happy and in love, and in the next, she just cried that the man she loved was the source of Jane’s misfortune. She only hoped that it was the fault of her writing style, but it was not. Elizabeth burst into the room and the next moment she was on the couch near her aunt, crying.
Mrs Gardiner did not know what to do. She had a particular experience with her nieces’ tears, but it never happened with Elizabeth. Secretly Mrs Gardiner admired her the most of any young woman she knew and wanted to have both her daughters as accomplished and independent as she was. But in the face of love, it appeared that even the most self-possessed woman was weak like any other.
“You wipe your tears, Elizabeth Bennet,” she said with a firm voice, “and tell me everything from the beginning and with all the details I will need!”
Indeed her firm attitude did wonders and Elizabeth looked at her somehow more serene.
“I am so sorry,” she said.
“Do not be sorry, my dear, just postpone your sobbing and speak.”
It was not the most coherent story, but in the end, Mrs Gardiner understood her niece’s conflict.
“I cannot marry the man who made Jane unhappy.”
“Now, now, my dear, let us not make harsh decisions. Almost every woman in this world experiences disappointment in love, it is how life is. Sometimes you like a man who does not like you back but also the reverse is possible. I am so sorry for Jane’s suffering, but you cannot renounce your love just for this. It is unjust but…your suffering does not redeem the loss of her love. I do not say that Mr Darcy acted properly—as I have already written to you—sometimes we have to know both sides of a story. I am sure he is a gentleman and not a vicious character in search of producing suffering.”
That was true, and Elizabeth nodded with a shadow of relief.
“We must think of a method to make Jane forget that man if there is no chance for them to be together.”
“Jane thinks they still have a future together and she is now happy about the dinner at Darcy’s. She hopes he will be there…”
“But?”
“It is not certain he will be at Darcy’s tomorrow.”
“Elizabeth,” her aunt said while she gently caressed her face, “it does not matter if they meet tomorrow of another day. Your duty stops now. You will go tomorrow and tell that poor man you will marry him and we will all celebrate your betrothal.”
“I cannot do that, I trust you, but I cannot do that. It will be a betrayal and I do not want my marriage to begin with such an act.”
“Then tell Jane the truth and let her decide.”
“No, just let me try to put them in the same room and then I will feel better.”
“Do you promise that as soon as they are in the same room, you will announce the betrothal. It will not matter anymore if they end up together or not…”
“I do not know, it is not our covenant.”
Mrs Gardiner stood up in haste, she was somewhat nervous. “My God, girl, conclude this nonsense, you are not living in the age of covenants.”
As Elizabeth looked astonished, her aunt continued in a milder tone. “My dear, you are a pure and innocent girl—despite your age of twenty. You still think life is an ideal place with rivers of milk and candy clouds.”
“I think I am mature enough!” Elizabeth replied, slightly offended.
“I know you are mature in other ways, but you are a girl—not a woman. This man you love is a man.”
Elizabeth did not seem to understand.
“He is 30, he is in charge of his estate and his sister’s co-guardian since his father’s death. He lives in the real world, with work and responsibilities. You cannot inflict your childish games on him …covenant and others like it. You must act like a mature woman who is asked to become a wife and answer by yes or no. Please, Elizabeth, think of your situation, life has given you the best gift possible, an honest and wealthy man who loves you and you love him.”
“I do not think of his wealth!” Elizabeth answered.
“And it is so wrong not to think, it is a proof of immaturity. Let me repeat what I have already written to you—if you marry him, Jane and all your sisters will have other opportunities in life. Mr Darcy is a member of the Ton. Jane could attend a few parties in your home in London and find a man at least as nice as Mr Bingley…and then Kitty or Lydia. And—it does not give me a pleasure to tell you this—if something happens to your father, you will have the means to help your mother and your sisters.”
“You sound like Mama!” Elizabeth answered with reproach while Mrs Gardiner came closer on the sofa and took her hands. “Your mother is not wrong in what she says, she is wrong only in how she gives her messages. She is so eager to see you married that she sometimes forgets common sense.”
“You are such a fortunate girl, go and take what life is giving you as it will not be there forever for you. So, tomorrow you will go in private with your Mr Darcy and tell him you will marry
him.”
However, the expression on Elizabeth’s was not encouraging. She agreed with her aunt and even regretted having established the covenant but did not dare to ignore it. It might be a superstition or a childish game, yet her heart told her she would not be happy if she broke her covenant and accepted him before seeing Jane happy.
Chapter 9
In front of Darcy’s house, her aunt took her arm and obliged her to stay behind Mr Gardiner and Jane while she whispered, “Look at his house, Elizabeth and tell me you do not dream of living here. And for you, this could be much more than a dream.”
Elizabeth stood still in the middle of the main hall while Darcy and the colonel bowed. She tried not to look amazed by its dimensions, the stairs in green marble and the ancient doors which opened into a large parlour which was dominated by a picture that represented…Pemberley. Elizabeth did not need anybody to tell her that the imposing mansion mirrored in a lake was his home.
She went closer to the picture and Darcy came near her, he was explaining to everybody, but in fact, he was speaking only to her. “My mother got ill here in London and it became impossible for her to go back to Pemberley. So my father ordered this painting for her. It was painted by Richard Barrett Davis who spent just two months at Pemberley and came back with this masterpiece that brightened my mother’s last year of life. She sat here all day long and read while looking at her dear Pemberley.”
“Splendid,” Mr Gardiner said. “I suppose it is faithful to reality?”
“Oh yes,” the colonel said, “Once you see the painting, you imagine Pemberley exactly as it sits on the lake’s banks. But if you want to see all the works of art, I invite you to take a tour of the house, while my cousin stays here to welcome the other guests.”
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