by Anna Harlow
“I do not know much myself, other than what is written therein,” she replied, thrusting the letter she still held into her daughter’s hands to read. “It is all accomplished just as the pair designed. I’ve had a letter from my girl, and she signed it as Lydia Wickham. She believes it to be a good joke, but I do not find any humor in it. She has applied to your father to bring her husband here to visit, yet your father refuses them entry. And you know there is no reasoning with him once he makes up his mind. Oh, shall I ever see my poor, dear Lydia again?”
“Mama, you know that my father has a soft spot in his heart for each of his girls. Surely, given time to adjust to the change, he might eventually reconsider. Though for my part, I should not be pleased to see Mr. Wickham. I have learned a few things about that gentleman which vex me greatly. For he has used us all false, and made Darcy look to be a villain when he truly has done no wrong. But I cannot divulge that story. Only know, Mama, that Lydia has made a poor choice indeed. Has she said how they will get on now?”
“Indeed,” she said, her tears returning in full measure. “Wickham was forced to resign his officer’s commission and take a new post among the regulars. He and Lydia must live in the far north, where it is likely I shall never be able to visit them. Oh, my poor, poor Lydia! But, Lizzy, that is not the only thing I am worried about. Oh, you shall never believe what has happened between Jane and Mr. Bingley!”
“Jane and Bingley?” Elizabeth asked, and alarm coursed all through her. “Please, you must tell me at once!”
“My dear, Mr. Bingley asked Jane not three days ago to marry him, and things were going quite well,” she explained. “But that hateful, hateful letter from Colonel Forster arrived yesterday while Bingley was here, and when he learned the news, he told Jane he shall be several days away from Netherfield, for he has urgent business in London. I cannot help but believe his real motivation must have been to escape! He shall cry off from the engagement and leave our poor Jane devastated. All thanks to Lydia and her foolish games!”
“Mama, I believe you underestimate Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth protested. “His integrity is beyond such reproach. And also, I have seen the two of them together. Bingley loves Jane very much—even Mr. Darcy has said so.”
“Mr. Darcy?” she scoffed. “Oh, what does he know of anything? Such a proud, disagreeable gentleman can certainly have no clue. And though he may not have used Wickham ill, that does not excuse him from refusing to dance at the assembly ball. He slighted you, Lizzy, and yet still you seem to like him well enough. I cannot fathom how you tolerate such a disagreeable gentleman. I felt quite sorry to learn he visited Rosings while you were there.”
“But the gentleman improves a great deal upon closer acquaintance,” Elizabeth defended him. “If Jane should marry Bingley, he will be much in attendance, since the two men are the best of friends. That means that Mr. Darcy and I must learn to get along.”
“I do not doubt that is so. But perhaps we need not see him unless we go to Netherfield. He certainly has no occasion to come to Longbourn on his own.”
Elizabeth thought that the gentleman would disagree with such a statement emphatically. At least, he would if he decided to make up with her. He might not wish to renew his addresses, but surely that did not mean the two of them could not still be friends. For in truth, though there may be a lot of tension between them, she could not begin to imagine going back to her dull, boring routine in which they never bantered at all. Indeed not. She could never imagine a life in which Darcy did not play a part.
“I must go upstairs and change, Mama,” she said as her depression crept up on her again. “I believe I may sleep for a while, but I shall be down in time for supper.”
“Very well, Lizzy, be off with you. My own head is becoming quite ill. Perhaps I shall lie down too.”
Elizabeth stripped down to her undergarments but could not be bothered to either put on a nightgown or select her evening attire. She fell upon her bed and lay there staring up at the ceiling. Why had so much evil come into her world? Why should fate offer so many chances at happiness, and then knock all of their hopes down in one fell swoop?
Lydia’s antics could ruin even the smallest hope that Mr. Darcy would renew his interests in Elizabeth. Had he not said his feelings ran counter to his expectations already? What amounted to a fallen sister was certainly not a good addition to her list of issues, and surely he would congratulate himself on his narrow escape once he heard of it.
“Oh, Lizzy, I am sorry to disturb your slumber,” cried Jane as she came through the door. “My fiancé has returned from London and has just called upon me. Such wonderful news, dearest! He has received a letter from his mother, who is now known as Mrs. Fisher since her second marriage took place. She wishes to meet me, and Bingley is to bring me along to her little house just outside of Lambton. I shall be forced to stay at the inn while we are there, since her husband’s illness requires it, but I cannot possibly do that alone. I shall brook no refusal, sister, you simply must accompany me into Derbyshire.”
“Oh, but, Jane, I cannot,” Elizabeth protested, thinking that the last place she ought to go was anywhere near Pemberley, for catching sight of it could only make her remember her troubles with its owner. “I have already promised our aunt and uncle that I would go with them to the Lakes.”
“Oh, but you simply must come with me!” she insisted. “We shall write to Aunt and Uncle Gardiner immediately, and ask them to come along with us to Derbyshire instead.”
Elizabeth sighed. She was happy for Jane, of course, but she mourned the loss of her relaxing visit to the Lakes. Worse yet, why must they go to Derbyshire? Whatever would she do if Mr. Darcy was home? She thought it must be more than she could bear, but certainly she would not dampen her sister’s joy by telling her so.
“If the Gardiners agree, then I shall go with you quite happily. For seeing you obtain your fondest wish must create happiness enough for us both.”
Chapter Twenty
The Gardiners had easily agreed to change their plans, considering the happy occasion they would now become a part of instead. The travelers took the Gardiner’s carriage to Netherfield in the early morning, and two coaches belonging to the Bingleys were used to convey everyone from there.
Elizabeth was gratefully situated in one coach with her aunt and uncle, while Jane was ensconced in the other with Bingley and his sister Caroline. Though she seemed willing enough to assist her brother, Miss Caroline Bingley was obviously quite out of sorts to have anything to do with Elizabeth. She highly suspected Caroline was jealous that Darcy had left Meryton and spent time in Kent with her.
“You are awfully dull today, Lizzy,” said Mr. Gardiner. “You have not spoken one word in an entire half an hour. It is most unlike you.”
“Forgive me,” she said. “I was merely enjoying the scenery, sir. It is Jane who would have much to talk about on this occasion, though I dare say she is busily talking with the gentleman of her choice. Whereas I…I both dread and long for such an occasion.”
“This Mr. Darcy must be quite something to have you behaving thus,” her aunt teased her.
“Who said I was thinking of Mr. Darcy?”
“Charlotte Lucas, for one. She said that you would not explain, but that obviously the two of you had quarreled.”
“Aye, we did,” she nodded. “Though, I suppose it was much more consequential than that. Ours was not a mere disagreement, but a monumental moment gone astray. And I have no idea if there is any hope of recovery.”
“If the exchange was met with so much emotion on both parts, Lizzy, surely the gentleman must feel it just as much as yourself,” her aunt pointed out.
“I believe so,” said Elizabeth circumspectly. “I wish wholeheartedly that I could take back my hurtful words and change the discourse’s outcome completely. Would that I might have a chance at redemption someday!”
“Well, it is unfortunate that Mr. Darcy shall not be in the neighborhood while we are there,” Mr
. Gardiner pointed out. “These great men are seldom home at this time of the year.”
The conversation continued in this manner, though thoughts on Mr. Darcy were replaced with thoughts of other great men as they came upon open houses belonging to them. Mrs. Gardiner most especially wished to have a look at the home of the Duke of Marlborough, and called up to the driver to inform the rest of the party of her wish for the visit.
“An excellent suggestion, Aunt,” said Bingley, grinning at his use of the endearment, which also made her smile and laugh.
The tour was fascinating and enjoyable. Elizabeth felt that the furnishings and trappings of the place were somewhat overdone, but considering that the home belonged to a member of the aristocracy, that was not surprising. A couple of hours later, thoroughly satisfied that they had stretched their legs, the party returned to their coaches and continued their journey.
Spending their days in such a manner, either in some great house or some work of nature, they came at last into the area of Lambton. In the distance, they were then treated to the sight of another great estate. With a start of surprise, Elizabeth realized that it could only be Pemberley. Her heart skipped a beat and the butterflies assailed her madly. If she had accepted Mr. Darcy’s offer, that beautiful prospect would have actually become her home.
“And what do you think of Pemberley, Lizzy?” asked her aunt as she watched her gaze.
She blushed slightly. “It is a fair prospect, I suppose. Beautiful and enticing to behold, much like its owner.”
Her aunt laughed at this assessment. “Yes, I have always felt the place was lovely, though I have never had occasion to visit it, nor beheld its current master. Is he really such a handsome gentleman?”
“Indeed, yes,” Elizabeth insisted. “Not pretty, like Mr. Wickham, but much finer in his features. A rugged brow, a strong jaw, and the most expressive eyes I have ever encountered. And they are quite changeable, just like his mood. I had used to think they were ordinary blue eyes upon first inspection, but it is not true. One moment almost brown, another a greenish sort of blue. Quite fascinating, really.”
“This from a woman who will not admit to her affections. Elizabeth Bennet, what girl who is not smitten would ever notice something so very personal?”
Her blush deepened at these words, but she made no reply. What had her aunt spoken that was not true?
“Pemberley is indeed a fair prospect, and it is quite likely that the Darcy family will not be home,” said Mr. Gardiner then. “Perhaps on the morrow, while Jane is meeting her future mother-in-law, we might endeavor to have a look.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think we should!” Elizabeth protested. “I mean, I don’t want to intrude.”
“We should not be intruding there anymore than we intruded at Marlborough,” he scoffed.
“But I do not know the Duke personally, sir,” she insisted. “And I certainly have not been arguing with him, and left the dispute unresolved.”
“Lizzy, Mr. Darcy is not even there,” her aunt reminded her. “You have nothing to fear. Do you not wish to see the place where your friend makes his home?”
She blushed again. “I am most curious about it, I must admit. But still, I would not wish to offend the gentleman even further. If he should learn that I’d come to his house uninvited, I would be completely mortified.”
“But I would not wish to leave you alone at the inn, dearest, and I have always longed to go,” her aunt pointed out. “Surely it will be fine. We are only going in a public capacity.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Very well, then. I shall do it, Aunt, but only for you. I must find no great enjoyment in it for myself.”
Mr. Gardiner hooted at this pronouncement but said nothing. Thankfully, they reached Lambton within the hour. The Bingley coach stopped along with the Gardiner coach at the inn, where all of Jane’s belongings were deposited except for the overnight bag she had prepared for spending the first night in the Fisher’s home. Bingley did not expect his mother to relinquish her before sometime tomorrow, at which point he was to bring her back to her room at the inn.
“Our own activities for tomorrow are quite fixed as well,” said Mrs. Gardiner as Jane took her leave. “You need not concern yourself with returning much before suppertime, as we shall be off to have a look at Pemberley. Mr. Gardiner has heard it is open to the public tomorrow.”
“Capital idea,” Bingley agreed, smiling. “You shall certainly fall in love with the place. I have spent many evenings there and find it one of the most excellent homes in the world.”
“High praise, indeed,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “Now I am most eager to see for myself what has prompted your words.”
“Well, until tomorrow then, sister, Aunt, Uncle! Come along, my darling Jane. I confess myself to be quite excited for you and Mama to meet.”
“The experience should be…interesting,” added Caroline, smirking slightly.
Elizabeth wondered if Bingley’s mother might be of the same ilk as her daughter. For Jane’s sake, she hoped this was not so. It would be far better to learn that Bingley’s affability and charm had come from Mrs. Fisher, and that it was their father’s influence that had so ruined Caroline’s attitudes.
“Enjoy yourself tonight, Jane,” she said, giving her sister a hug. “I hope that she will like you just as much as her son has chosen to.”
“Thank you, Lizzy,” she said, smiling. “And good luck at Pemberley tomorrow.”
Elizabeth blushed. “I should not need any luck, since the gentleman is not there.”
Although she was able to hold her worries at bay during the evening, in her bed that night things were a different matter entirely. She could not seem to stop her imagination from inventing numerous scenarios in which she and Mr. Darcy would discover one another while she was in Lambton. Most of them were based on the gentleman arriving home and finding himself in a mood to shop in town while she was, herself, doing the same. Yet since she was headed for Pemberley in the morning, she could not help but also visualize encountering him while she was there.
“Oh, why can I not sleep?” she lamented, though she certainly knew the answer. Unfamiliar bed, unfamiliar place, and far too much to think about. A deadly combination for someone hoping to slip into a light doze, let alone manage to get substantial rest before embarking on an adventure which would surely require a bit of fortitude.
Had she been at Longbourn, she could simply slip out of bed and take a walk in the garden, but she could certainly not do that at Lambton. This was not her safe, neighborly grounds, where even if she did meet up with somebody she could be certain they would be known to her and never think to do anything that would cause her even one moment of alarm. No, these people were strangers. She began to understand how Darcy must have felt to be confronted by a room full of them at the assembly ball.
Certainly, as a man he would have far less to worry about, since his superior strength would aid him in overcoming any unexpected adversity. And he did not need to worry that should someone overpower him and steal his virtue that he would then become damaged to the point of being considered unmarriageable. Still, Elizabeth was not silly enough to think that cutthroats and others of their ilk were the only dangerous human beings. Only look at Caroline Bingley, or Lady Catherine, two selfish creatures with no care at all for another person’s feelings.
Because she had not wished to destroy Darcy’s letter, and also did not wish for it to be found, Elizabeth had taken to keeping it close, and so in a bid to calm down enough to sleep, she slipped it out of her reticule and read it through once again. She did not concentrate on the words, but rather on the formation of the lines, the excellent penmanship, and the preciseness of his hand. She could almost visualize the manner and look of Darcy as he had written it.
With the pages clutched to her chest, allowing her to be near him in some small way, Elizabeth soon found it easy to drift off at last. Her dreams were filled with visions of her times spent at Rosings. Almost all of them involved n
ot Lady Catherine or her daughter, but the looks that she had exchanged with Mr. Darcy.
Chapter Twenty-One
Elizabeth’s nerves were in a shambles as they rode in the carriage they’d hired for the next week through the vast woods and onward over a stone bridge that took them to the gates of Pemberley estate. All this land, every tree and every stone, was owned by Mr. Darcy. Her brain knew well enough that if Pemberley was open to the public that he was not there, but her butterflies insisted on a different story. One which she could not seem to ignore.
“Is it not grand, Lizzy?” her aunt asked, offering her an encouraging smile.
“It is,” she agreed. “I like it above all things.”
“But you do not act well pleased, my dear,” said her aunt shrewdly.
“I shall not allow myself to fall in love with the place,” she insisted. “My feelings are quite jangled enough without adding such a folly.”
“How silly you are, my dear,” she scoffed. “You refuse to love the home of the gentleman you love? It makes no sense to me at all.”
