That's What Makes It Love

by Iris Lim

  “We were betrothed, Elizabeth.” Georgiana cried – and she clung to her friend’s arms in pain. “We never formalized it, but it was true.”

  “And you agreed to it.”

  “Agreed to what?”

  “The arrangement.”

  “What do you mean?” Georgiana felt her heart weighing so heavily that it was about to sink her stomach. “Why would I not agree to marry the finest man I know?”

  Elizabeth responded with quietness – wordlessness – nothing. It was as if the wisest woman in Longbourn had been struck dumb.

  “Elizabeth?”

  “I – I had not realized.” She glanced around skittishly, like she wished to be somewhere else. “I thought it was a fabrication – a trap. Childhood betrothals and agreements never stand in Meryton – but, perhaps, your family intends these things seriously.”

  She stopped before Georgiana made any whole sense of her words.

  Then, Elizabeth looked at her straight in the eye.

  “I’m sorry, Georgiana. The pain must be – excruciating.”

  Georgiana nodded, comforted by the compassion, and proffered her thanks.

  • • •

  “Mr. Darcy.”

  He looked towards the source of the address. Until this point, his morning had been spent waiting – in the carriage, by the door, on the street. According to Georgiana, the Meryton shops had little fare to offer in comparison to London’s; but his sister shopped nonetheless. He – noting her pain – freely permitted it.

  “You appear more equipped for nature, sir.”

  He smiled now, having recognized her voice.

  He nodded, aware that the hammering noises of the cobbler’s shop behind him would cover any words he chose to speak softly.

  He shouted instead. “I do prefer my walking boots. There is little vanity allowed for a man who cannot see his own reflection.”

  “You need not be so severe, sir,” Miss Elizabeth replied, sounding much less teasing than she had but one statement ago.

  Despite the dusty roads and smelly horses, he still caught that hint of lavender – that touch of mint. She was, as ever, fresh as the dawn.

  “Vanity – one realizes – is wholly unnecessary for the likes of me.” He heard a resignation in his own voice that he disliked very much.

  “You always look well dressed, sir.”

  “Only by George’s hand.”

  “Mr. Wickham accompanies you today?”

  “He –” Darcy paused, realizing then that he did not know where his right hand man had gone once more. He shook his head slightly. “It is but Georgiana and I.”

  “I see.”

  They fell silent then, pleasantries exhausted. He’d always felt safe with her – in the parlor, in the woods. Here, surrounded by villagers, a formality engulfed them that he had never truly noticed before.

  “Elizabeth!” Georgiana appeared behind him. Darcy turned to extend his arm. “You are here!”

  “Yes.” There was a smile to their neighbor’s tone. Darcy much preferred it.

  “I informed Fitzwilliam of my distractions, and he most generously offered to visit Meryton with me,” Georgiana explained without prompting. Her young arms curled around her brother’s. “He is a most dedicated man.”

  Darcy bit back his smile, for true men would not betray their contentment so easily.

  “I understand the cause of your distress must be common to you both,” came Miss Elizabeth’s inexplicable choice of topic. Darcy redirected his face towards her, frowning. “It is heartening to see family enduring where romance may fail.”

  Darcy found his heart stopping at the disclosure of her knowledge. While it was true that he had never attempted to hide the knowledge of his expectations for Richard and Georgiana, he had never expected the humiliating Darcy disappointment to be of such public awareness.

  “Oh Elizabeth!” Georgiana did not seem to share his embarrassment – and flew from his arm to their friend’s. He heard the skirts and fingers, and he knew they clung tightly to the other then. “You are right in your every assessment.”

  He heard Georgiana’s sob, and he felt his own heart tightening.

  Had his every attempt to comfort his sister resulted in so little help?

  “I cannot deny that I rejoice for my friend,” Miss Elizabeth admitted, to Darcy’s keen surprise. “Charlotte has long hoped for a home of her own – but, Georgiana, dear – I cannot bear that her happiness should come at the cost of your own.”

  Darcy froze, caught unawares by the revelation. His sister exchanged whispers with Miss Elizabeth – still, somehow, happy with the friendship.

  Darcy frowned. “Miss Elizabeth, did you – encourage your friend in her pursuit?”

  He hoped she had not. He could not bear the thought that she had acted so contrarily to his wishes.

  “Whatsoever could you mean, sir?” Her voice was now directed straight towards him.

  His frown did not relent. “Richard has seldom acted so rashly. It shall not be borne if I discover that outward inducements have led him to make such consequential decisions so swiftly and destructively.”

  “My friend’s hand in marriage is no destruction.”

  Darcy hated now that this woman still stood so closely to his sister.

  “You and your sisters – realizing that Bingley brought with him a whole load of eligible men – cannot but help have designs upon us.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir!”

  He heard her shrinking away – away from Georgiana, away from him. Georgiana had begun sobbing again.

  “When your sisters could not catch Richard’s fancy, you sent your friend –” His voice caught in his throat. He could not believe the accusations himself, but he felt their truth in his aching, ageing bones.

  “There have been no schemes of any sort in all our interactions.” There was fury – and pain – in her voice. His own heart ached with each step she took that led her farther away.

  “And yet you throw her happiness in my sister’s face?” He broke before she did. His hand wandered to support himself on the nearest, creaking post. He felt Georgiana rush back to his side.

  “I express my sorrow for her.” Miss Elizabeth – voice and person – felt far, far away. “How can such genuine compassion be anything but sincere?”

  “Yet, still – you encouraged your friend.” He struggled to regain his composure. Georgiana’s hand upon his elbow acted as his anchor. “You encouraged her to spur my cousin into stupidity and indiscretion.”

  “Love is not stupidity and indiscretion!”

  “And you believe what they share is love?” Darcy spat, more angry than he had felt in years. His anger burned towards her, and towards himself.

  “Perhaps you would know, sir – given your engagement to your own cousin.”

  The words hung emptily between them, despite the carriages and whistles and hollers. Georgiana leaned close, perhaps both for herself and her brother.

  Darcy’s eyes stung.

  He hated that they stung.

  “Et tu, Elizabeth?”

  She did not answer, but she fumbled and shifted. He waited, heart tight.

  “Good day, Mr. Darcy,” she replied a moment later. “Miss Darcy, I hope you enjoy our little town.”

  She left before he regained enough strength to respond.

  • • •

  Nineteen Years Ago

  • • •

  “Anne, you look dashing today – as you ever do.”

  Darcy turned towards the voice. He heard – and felt – Father walking closer to where Mother sat. He thought he heard the sound of a kiss. The past year had been difficult – but now he knew, at least, how to use his arms and feet and heart to listen along with his ears.

  “My son is handsome only because he takes after you.” Father’s voice was now as low as Mother’s. Perhaps he sat down too.

  “You are a flatterer, George – and always will be.” Mother laughed. Afternoons like this,
where Darcy sat indoors with his mother, made him forget that he could not run and climb and journey as the other boys did.

  “Ten years is quite a long time.” Father sounded happy and light-hearted. “I’m afraid it’s become rather ingrained in my character.”

  “I have no wish to be married to a flatterer.”

  “To a worshipper then – a man devoted to nothing but your beauty and happiness.”

  “For all of these ten years?”

  “And the next ten years to come – and the ten years after that.”

  “George.”

  “Anne, my love.”

  Darcy didn’t know why – but his chest felt tight when Mother sighed. He knew what it felt like to have Father and Mother hold him.

  He wondered if they held each other now.

  “Some days,” Father said, quite a while later, “I wondered how I ever convinced you to grant me your hand in marriage.”

  “You were a most determined suitor.”

  “You were the daughter of an earl.”

  “You were handsome – as you are now.”

  Father laughed. Darcy thought he was happier than he had been in a very long time.

  Suddenly, he felt Father’s large hand pressing on his small shoulder.

  “I am determined that you shall find love as grand and abiding as ours.” Father’s words sounded as if they were for him, but they also sounded far away.

  “George.” Mother’s clothes rustled.

  For a few moments, Darcy merely listened to his parents breathe.

  “You shall know love,” Mother said, now more clearly directed at him.

  Darcy nodded. He did not know why he wanted to cry.

  Father knelt down from his chair and hugged his small, young, broken heir.

  Chapter 9:

  The Arranged Coincidence

  The way her boots crushed each pile of leaves – laying waste to puddle after puddle between them – was entirely unladylike. The way she marched through the clearings like a renegade soldier disgusted even herself.

  But she didn’t truly care today.

  A half mile before Oakham Mount, she stopped to catch her breath.

  The harsh words she’d exchanged with her newfound friend haunted her from the moment she’d uttered them. Her eyes stung, even now, at the recollection of her own unfairness and pride.

  Had she thrown her injured thoughts so freely at a blind, suffering man? Had she quarreled with a stalwart brother – when his sister, her friend, stood so near? The insults he had flung at her still roused their own part of unrest in her heart. How dare he accuse Charlotte of mercenary motives! How dare he make so light of others’ feelings when his own path to love had been nothing but boring and all but arranged?

  Unbidden, a long, hardened sniff escaped her – trailed by her own ragged breath.

  Dinner had been unbearable last night – with Mama dwelling endlessly upon Charlotte’s good fortune and her own daughters’ accursed luck. In her heart, Elizabeth rejoiced for her friend. Alongside her joy, however, dwelt a deep, unsettling guilt over the ruined hearts the impending union inevitably left in its wake.

  “Miss Elizabeth!” The sound of her name surprised her – and she turned quickly to check her surroundings. It was early, but not so early that no kindly villagers would come to her aid if a highwayman were to find her before a friend did.

  “Miss Elizabeth!” The voice called again. She wondered if the man – for it was indubitably a man’s voice now – saw her though she could not see him. The thought of an unexpected encounter with a neighbor, or a childhood friend, felt equal parts welcome and intrusive at her current height of emotions.

  Involuntarily, her feet followed the direction of the call. An invisible thread beckoned her – hauling her forward, inch by inch.

  “Miss Elizabeth!” A third cry came. A glimpse of his coattails, and the now-indisputable recognition of his voice, ensured then that she knew who wished to see her before she fully chanced upon him.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she greeted when she stood before him at last.

  He sat upon a boulder – crouched low due to his large stature. His right hand clung to his walking stick, grasping it tighter ever so often as beads of sweat carved their paths down the sides of his face. Mr. Wickham – the only explanation for how his master came to be here by himself – was nowhere in sight.

  “Miss Elizabeth.” His face broke into a small grin. “You have come.”

  “Yes,” she said, unsure. When he did not pounce, nor bite, she ventured another foot closer.

  This clearing was among her favorites, a familiar resting place on her way to her favorite view. The birds sang sweetly here, at all hours of the day, and the laden branches kept a lovely vigil over the tiny creek. They’d met here before – more than once.

  Still, a man as encumbered as he could not be expected to make such a trip on his own lightly.

  “Mr. Wickham has returned to Netherfield,” Mr. Darcy explained, seemingly having read her mind. “He will not disturb us.”

  Elizabeth nodded, unable to formulate any other response.

  “Forgive my intrusion.” Suddenly, her companion was contrite. “I believe our encounter in town yesterday was rather – disagreeable.”

  She swallowed, uncomfortable with her own thoughts being so freely discussed on his lips.

  “Miss Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, you are right.” Slowly, she drifted one step away.

  “My apologies for encountering you thus, madam. I – my limitations bring me very few options to speak undisturbed, undiscovered.”

  She nodded again. Despite the fact he clearly could not see her – he nodded back, as if he did.

  “I’m afraid I have some amends to make, madam.” He shifted until he faced her. It was as if he sensed her presence, without laying a single eye upon her person. “May I have liberty to speak my mind?”

  The humble gentleman before her now was so radically different from the haughty one in Meryton less than a day ago that she did not even hesitate.

  “Yes, sir, of course.”

  • • •

  “So you see, Miss Elizabeth, I have not once – at any point in my lifetime – ever considered myself betrothed to my cousin.”

  She nodded mutely from her seat upon the grass, a position she had taken soon after he had begun his long-winded explanation. His lack of vision permitted her many unladylike liberties any other man could, or should, not.

  “My aunt’s express wishes – while oft repeated – had no bearing upon my life or my cousin’s. It was merely my love for my mother that –” Here, he stopped and sniffed abruptly. The weight in Elizabeth’s heart, growing for the past half hour, grew heavier still. “No, I ought not to make excuses.”

  “Mr. Darcy,” she called him – for no reason, truly – than merely to call him. She frowned sternly, as regretful of her foolish words as she was thankful for this man’s willingness to make amends.

  “While many women – sadly, many of women in my circle – may have mercenary designs,” he spoke calmly, as if merely remarking upon the weather, “there is no justification for me to attribute similar motives to the kind people of Hertfordshire.”

  Elizabeth blinked the sudden tears away. The humility and openness her new friend displayed today recommended him as no flirty compliment or grand declaration could.

  She admired him – more keenly now than ever before.

  She cleared her throat, a clumsy endeavor. “I must apologize as well, sir, for my own foolishness at Meryton. I fear my own pride spurred me to choose the words I knew would hurt you most – before my selfishness spurred me to utter them.”

  Mr. Darcy shook his head, though he had no reason to pardon her.

  “You spoke as you did merely because I accused you first,” he said.

  “My lack of discretion – and hurtfulness towards your sister – deserve no forgiveness.”

  “My own expectations for my sister are no bette
r than my aunt’s for me. I – who have been victimized by their schemes – owe greater guilt for attempting to do to others what I disdain being done to me.”

  “You love your sister –”

  “That is no reason to impose upon my cousin.”

  “Love comes unexpected. You could not have known –”

  “Miss Elizabeth.” He turned his face directly towards her. Her eyes fixed themselves upon his handsome features. “Can a man ever truly know a woman’s heart?”

  She blinked for a few moments, choosing each word with care.

  Then she spoke, “You have not incorrectly divined your sister’s hopes.”

  He looked down suddenly then, the stern frown on his face betraying his pain. “I have failed her.”

  “You have not.” She leaned closer towards him.

  “I gave her hope when there was no reason to hope. I allowed my preferences to create unkind expectations.”

  “You could not possibly have expected –”

  “Miss Elizabeth.” He looked sharply towards her, this time his face mere inches away. His breath tickled her nose. “Have I caused my sister’s heartbreak?”

  Her gaze ran generously over his face. Her heart ached for his.

  “I only wished for her to find happiness – where I could not.” His hands shook.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Would she ever love another?”

  She did not know why he asked her. She did not know why she – an unmarried lady – had any reason to feign further knowledge than he possessed.

  But his pain was too palpable to ignore.

  So she took his hands in hers. “I am sure she shall.”

  • • •

  “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” he told her gallantly when she assisted him upon his feet an hour hence.

  “It is no hardship, sir.” She smiled.

  She knew their current exchange was unusual. She keenly felt the uncommon thrill of her hand pressed between his arm and his body.

  She tried to speak evenly, nonetheless. “It is my honor to aid a man so kind.”

  His free hand flew to cover her entangled fingers. She leaned closer.