by Lory Lilian
Darcy’s stern voice replied once more to a question that was not his. “Pemberley is a large house, I would say. And still, if I were to marry for love, I would rather not have people around me other than my wife—at least for the beginning of our marriage.”
”Darcy, I have known you for many years, and this is the first time I have heard you speak openly of love,” Mr. Bingley said happily.
“I do not speak of love, Bingley. I just gave my opinion upon a certain subject.”
“Of course! It would be strange to hear Darcy speak of love. He surely considers it a ridiculous notion.” Mr. Godwin laughed.
“Please do not presume you know what I consider a ridiculous notion, Godwin,” Darcy answered as a servant refilled his wine glass.
Miss Bennet suddenly offered a decided opinion in Darcy’s favour. “Love is not a ridiculous notion but a most important matter. And I am sure Mr. Darcy gives proper consideration to what is truly important. Knowing him better these last weeks, I completely trust his judgement and wisdom.”
The gentleman was apparently surprised, and he bowed his head to her in gratitude.
“Love is something that people discuss easily, and it is lovely to read about it in novels,” Miss Julia Kendal said in earnest. “But a woman rarely has the luxury of choosing with whom she falls in love. She must be careful where she allows her feelings to lie if she wishes to make a good marriage.”
“You must be right, Miss Kendal. But can anyone choose with whom they fall in love?” Elizabeth asked. “Is love something to be careful about?” She tried not to look towards Darcy, but with little success. Their eyes met briefly.
“It must be, otherwise it is nothing but carelessness,” Miss Kendal declared.
“When one falls in love, it is often careless. It has happened to me several times,” the colonel said with a laugh.
“If it happens to you so often, how can you or a lady trust your heart, Colonel? How do you know it is love and not mere infatuation?” Miss Godwin inquired.
“True love is different from infatuation,” Bingley said seriously. “You cannot confuse them. You know when your heart belongs to someone forever and nothing else matters.” His words were heartfelt, and silence fell on the chamber while Jane, flushed and almost tearful, looked at her betrothed adoringly.
“I say, Bingley, I envy and congratulate you for finding your perfect match. If only we could have half your luck,” the colonel said as he raised his glass, and the other gentlemen joined him to cheer that statement.
“Bingley has been fortunate twice. First, that he met Miss Bennet and succeeded to gain her affection, and second, that he had the freedom to decide. Many people must be cautious in choosing their spouse,” Mr. Hugh Wilson admitted with some sadness.
“Indeed, that is true if one wishes to gain something through marriage—if the demand of reason is stronger than the call of the heart,” Elizabeth said daringly.
“And would you do otherwise, Miss Elizabeth?” said Miss Godwin. “Do you think people should recklessly care about nothing but shallow inclination and passing feelings? Would that be a wise approach?”
“I cannot say what is best. I believe each chooses what is better suited for both heart and reason,” Elizabeth concluded.
Miss Bingley did not lose the chance to give her opinion. “Well, a man can propose out of love, but he cannot be certain he is accepted for the same reason. No woman would refuse a marriage proposal from a man with a good situation in life who happens to be in love with her. But she might have other reasons to accept him than genuine love. So a man could easily be deceived. Therefore, disappointments and lack of happiness will certainly follow once he realises his love is not requited.”
The allusion was transparent and left Jane fighting tears of offence and Elizabeth those of anger.
The colonel spoke first. “Surely, a man is not so easily deceived in reading a lady’s feelings.”
It was Miss Godwin’s turn to laugh. “Come now, Colonel, this is only men’s arrogance. It is the rare man who can accurately read a woman’s feelings. They are easily deceived by a few smiles and pleasant words. Women know how to get what they want, and they mostly want a man who provides them comfort and security at the level to which they are accustomed. If there is more, all the better—as in Miss Bennet’s case.”
“True; if we are to speak of an example,” Mrs. Hurst interfered, ”I know my brother proposed to dear Jane out of affection, but however much we adore Jane and admire her beauty and her candour, how can one be sure of the reason for her acceptance?”
Jane hurried to respond with surprising strength in her voice. “If we are to speak of examples, then ours is not the one to use. My affection for Charles is true and deep, and I defy anyone to say otherwise!”
“Of course it is, my dear,” Mrs. Hurst agreed condescendingly. “But my point is: no woman would ever refuse a man like my brother even if she had no true affection for him.”
“I strongly contradict you there,” Darcy said with the same severity. “I know for a fact that there are women who have refused more than one advantageous marriage proposal for sound reasons that honour them.”
He did not turn to Elizabeth, but his words coloured her face, and she needed a sip of cold water to moisten her throat.
“I cannot believe that. If there were such a case, then the lady must be very rich or the man must have something against him in his appearance, manners, or character—or all three together. Otherwise, the lady of such a station would not be in her right mind,” declared Miss Godwin, and the other ladies agreed with her for the second time that evening.
A smile finally brightened Darcy’s countenance, and he held Elizabeth’s eyes for an instant before answering Miss Godwin.
“I am not allowed to offer details, but I can safely say that neither of the circumstances you mentioned was true. There are simply women for whom their own self-esteem and the call of their heart and mind are more important than security and a comfortable living.”
“I am sorry to say I doubt your story, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Godwin insisted.
“I shall not attempt to change your mind, Miss Godwin. But I assure you that such women exist and should be recognised and praised as they deserve, precisely because they are so rare.”
Elizabeth’s fingers trembled on her water glass as she listened to his offered praise in front of so many strangers. She did not dare glance at him. Jane looked at her with distress and concern, and a little smile of comfort was exchanged between the sisters.
A tense silence fell upon the dining room until the colonel broke it cheerfully.
“Darcy, I count on you to introduce me to such a lady, although I might be a little frightened by such strength and determination. In the meantime, I am happy to enjoy the company of the lovely ladies that are with us tonight. Could we have some music? It would be the loveliest way to conclude the evening.”
***
During dinner, the rain outside gradually became the first snow of the season. As the evening progressed, large snowflakes began to fall steadily, glimmering under the torches that lit the yard.
The guests retired rather early, as they were all tired after their journey.
In the solace of their chamber, Elizabeth and Jane found no rest. They spoke about the evening, about the gentlemen, about the ladies, and about Jane’s concerns regarding the Bingley sisters.
Half an hour later, when they were ready to change into nightgowns, Elizabeth walked to the window. With astonishment, she noticed Darcy and Bingley walking in the snow-covered backyard.
Her heartbeat increased as she looked at her sister happily. “Dearest, would you like a short stroll in the garden before bed?”
Jane’s eyes widened in astonishment; then understanding brightened her face. “Yes, I would like that ver
y much.”
Minutes later, the sisters exited the house to confront the wind and snow, stepping carefully in their somewhat improper shoes and holding each other’s arms. Shortly, the two gentlemen noticed them and hurried to offer support. No words were spoken, only gazes held and smiles shared.
Jane took her betrothed’s arm with both hands while his free hand covered them.
Tentatively and carefully, Darcy searched Elizabeth’s face for a moment then gently took her hand and placed it on his arm. She smiled and walked at his side behind the other couple.
The wind chilled her face, and her feet were already cold, but she felt warm and would have gladly walked like that until morning.
“We saw you from our window and decided to join you. I hope we have not disturbed you,” she said. She looked at him while he stared ahead of them. His silhouette was even more handsome in the half darkness, and her heart skipped a beat.
“I shall not even respond to that; you surely know what unexpected delight your presence brings both to Bingley and me. I can safely declare this to be the most pleasant walk I have had since we met at Oakham Mount.”
She forgot to breathe. “Indeed…” was all she could reply.
After a few moments of walking in silence, he continued. “It was an interesting evening, if not entirely pleasant.”
“It was pleasant enough,” she answered. “But interesting, as you said…many opinions, much discussion, many arguments…”
“I hope Miss Bennet and Bingley will benefit from the privacy they deserve once they marry. Such company could be rather challenging, especially for those who are too kind and generous to openly demand their rights.”
“I hope that too. Mr. Bingley has seemed to improve in resolution lately.”
“True—I noticed the same.”
Silence, wind, snow, and their arms held close together again.
“Mr. Godwin is a good sort of man—and quite wealthy,” he said unexpectedly.
She tightened the grip of his arm. “Yes, he is.”
“He has amiable manners, and people are always easy in his company,” he continued tentatively.
His obvious jealousy melted her heart, and she answered carefully, hoping to be clearly understood.
“A woman is more at ease in the company of a man that is only a mere friendly acquaintance. Mr. Godwin is much like Colonel Fitzwilliam to me.”
Her answer seemed to please him; he relaxed, attempted to say something but changed his mind; then he put his hand over hers. “I hope my company is tolerable enough.”
“I shall not even respond to that, sir.” She laughed, mocking his earlier response.
He turned his head to meet her eyes and her smile; then they continued to move carefully through the snowy, freezing night, just steps behind Jane and Bingley.
A short while later, they were startled by a voice calling them, and from behind, they saw Mr. Godwin hurrying towards them.
“Darcy, Bingley, how are you? Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I saw you from the window. What a brilliant idea to take a stroll on such lovely night. May I join you?”
“Yes, of course,” both Bingley and Jane answered.
In an apparently excellent mood, Godwin started to talk to them. Elizabeth paid more attention to Darcy on her left side, silent and obviously displeased. As she tried to listen to Godwin, her feet slipped, and both men supported her. She thanked them, laughing at her silliness, but Mr. Godwin took the opportunity and offered her his arm too.
She hesitated; her heart knew what to say—that she wished and needed nothing else to protect and warm her but one man’s arm and closeness. But her mind opposed her heart’s desire: she had no reason to refuse Mr. Godwin’s kind offer and no right to show such an obvious preference. So her other hand reluctantly took the arm as her voice expressed a gratitude she did not truly feel.
She moved carefully, torn by an astonishing discovery. There were two handsome, educated gentlemen next to her, both holding her arm. Both were kind and amiable, and both seemed to enjoy her company. And yet, all her senses, all her attention, and all the pleasure were focused on one side. The situation was entirely innocent, a common one in circumstances where young men and ladies meet: dancing, dining, walking. And yet, nothing was ordinary when Darcy was near her. With astonishment, she wondered how she could possibly have so many disturbing feelings from just touching Darcy’s arm and nothing at all from holding Godwin’s.
And that very moment, recollections and understanding overwhelmed her. From the first day they met, she had experienced strong feelings in Darcy’s company. When they talked in the past, a sense of nervous energy made her more sour and bitter than usual. When he had smiled and gazed at her, she willingly took it as disdain to justify her tumult of feelings. When they had danced a year ago at the Netherfield ball, the touch of his hand had stirred her inside, and the shivers this produced had troubled her during the entire set. Therefore, she brought up subjects in conversation that she knew would pain and torment him. She wished him to be as uncomfortable as she was!
She had never been easy, calm, or restful in his company. Her heart had always responded differently to him than to any other man, and her feelings for him had always been powerful, even when she believed she despised him.
The wind blew a few snowflakes over her face, making her shiver almost as much as her self-discovery had. Her fingers tightened their grip on Darcy’s arm, and she felt his gaze moving towards her even before she met it.
She smiled at him with her eyes and with her soul then turned to her other companion, who continued to speak of things that mattered not to her.
It was almost midnight when the walk ended. With their cheeks, feet, hands, and petticoats frozen and their hearts still warmed by the company of loved ones, the Bennet sisters returned to their comfortable, heated bedchamber.
Each was happy for herself and for her sister. However, although they had difficulty falling asleep, for the first time in their lives, neither of them wished to talk. There was much to feel, and words would only spoil it.
Chapter 9
Elizabeth’s distress had increased by the next morning, but in a delightful way. It was still dark when she woke, and the weather remained ill, but her spirit was light and her heart warm.
Sleep had taken her into dreams so vivid that memories of them made her blush. Imagination stirred her senses and took her beyond what she experienced when she was in his company.
She had only to close her eyes to hear his whispers, feel his hands spoiling her with caresses she never dared imagine, taste his lips tantalising hers, and become intoxicated by his scent of power and gentleness.
She knew there was more—much more—to learn, to discover, and to feel with no one but him.
Once she admitted she had never been indifferent to Darcy, she struggled to recollect the precise moment that she had surrendered to him. What was the specific moment, gesture, or word that aroused her admiration and affection? She knew it must have been at Pemberley; until then, she only had time to accept her error in judging him and recognise his worthiness.
It was his willingness to take her reproaches to heart and change for her—his gentleness, friendliness, and generosity in not feeling resentment. His smiles and attentive looks were meant only for her, and it was his hand that helped her into the carriage. In the end, he was just a man showing his true self to the woman he loved.
Eagerness to see him again made her restless, and for fear she might awaken Jane, she decided to move to the library and find a book to employ her time. While she walked down the stairs, new memories intruded from the previous year: about her preferring reading to cards, his statement regarding accomplished women who improve their minds through extensive reading, happening upon him in the billiard room…
She pushed the heavy door and stepp
ed in. The fire had been made, and it was pleasant enough. Several candles burned steadily, just enough to notice—almost immediately after she sensed it—that she was not alone.
“Miss Bennet…good morning…”
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I just came to search for a book…to read. I woke up, and I did not want to disturb Jane…”
“Please, sit down. Yes, I could not sleep either. May I offer you a cup of tea? Or coffee? I have been here for about an hour…reading letters from my solicitors…”
“I hope I am not disturbing you. A cup of tea would be fine,” she answered, as uneasy as he was.
“No—not at all…quite the contrary.”
She intended to pour the tea for herself, but he was faster, inviting her to sit one more time and handing her the warm cup.
He appeared undecided about where to sit—whether too close or too far away. Finally, he brought a chair to the sofa and placed it so they could face each other.
“Is everything all right, I hope? In your letters?” she spoke, troubled by their privacy and closeness.
“Yes…only regular correspondence…” He paused and looked at her with a mischievous smile. “I also received a long letter—based on its thickness—from Lady Catherine. But I shall read it after the ball.”
“Oh…I imagine Mr. Collins informed her ladyship of your whereabouts.”
“Perhaps. I should be angry with Mr. Collins for his ridiculous interference. But I confess I cannot since we two have something in common,” he continued with a mocking voice that she did not recognise. He was still smiling, and dimples appeared.
She felt nervous as she understood his meaning and wondered how to reply. But even more distressing was the sudden change in his behaviour, his teasing and flirtatious approach.
“What could you possibly have in common, sir?” she risked inquiring.
“Well, it seems we both have been rightly rejected by a worthy woman whose approval we did not deserve.” His tone gained a trace of gravity, and his amused eyes were slightly shadowed.
