Rocks in the Stream

by Lewis Whelchel

  “What about them? She has an uncle in trade and another that is an attorney. I am willing to acknowledge shortcomings in the younger girls, but remember, they lost their father at an early age. Mrs. Bennet should be a stronger mother to them, but I am certain that with Jane’s good example and my assistance, we can influence the girls towards better behavior. Mrs. Bennet is merely looking out for the welfare of her daughters. Her manner may be coarse, but it is sincere.”

  Elizabeth inched closer to the window.

  “But you could marry the daughter of a gentleman from an established, reputable family. You could take away the stigma of trade from your fortune. If you marry Miss Bennet, you will never be able to assume your rightful place in society.”

  “So you have told me. Miss Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman and my fortune does come from trade. I accept that fact even though my sisters do not. Our sons will be born as gentlemen. I cannot ask for more.”

  There was a pause, and then she heard Bingley’s voice again.

  “But I can and will ask for more. I will ask that I am loved and respected regardless of fortune, and I know that this is how Miss Bennet feels about me. I am going to marry her!”

  Elizabeth was shocked. Is this what Darcy thought of her?

  She ran off the balcony and down a hall until she came to a dark staircase. She sat down and cried softly. Why did she ever have to fall that day? Why did she ever have to be so long at Netherfield? Why did she have to love Mr. Darcy?

  * * * * *

  THE MORNING AFTER THE BALL was one of remorse and regret for Darcy. He felt angry and embarrassed by his own behavior. He had walked away from Elizabeth in mid-sentence and quarreled with Bingley.

  Two words, “I wish,” had escaped his lips in Elizabeth’s hearing. Yes, he wished that her prospects were better or that it did not matter to his father that they were not.

  Darcy had never had such a disagreement with Bingley before. In the past, he had always been able to persuade Bingley to adopt his opinion, but for the first time, he would not be influenced. Indeed, Bingley’s resolve seemed strengthened with each argument that Darcy put forward. It was Bingley’s opinion that Jane Bennet would fulfill all the desires he had for marriage, and those points in which Darcy considered her to be wanting were irrelevant to his happiness.

  The choice of a wife was an important matter, but was it worth a rift with Bingley? Miss Bennet was a very pleasing young woman and was in no way irksome or greedy like her mother. If Bingley was able to ignore the expectations of society, Darcy would have to confess that he could not make a better choice.

  After he had announced his intention to ask for Miss Bennet’s hand, Bingley had thrown Darcy’s feelings for Elizabeth back in his face. That had been the worst of it. Bingley had told him that his objections to his marriage with Jane had nothing at all to do with Miss Bennet, but were his own objections to a match he wished to form with Miss Elizabeth. Bingley had said that if all he was concerned about was wealth and connections, he was not worthy of being loved by Elizabeth. Darcy recognized the truth of Bingley’s words and fled the library for the solitude of his room

  In the monotonous silence of his bedchamber, Darcy reflected on the events of the evening. He had accomplished one thing. He knew that Elizabeth did not hate him. This provided some comfort, but his mind was not at peace. He had cut himself off from two of the people he loved most in the world. With feelings of isolation and loneliness, Darcy spent a tortured, sleepless night.

  * * * * *

  DARCY AROSE FROM HIS BED while it was still dark with a pitted, icy feeling in his stomach. He acknowledged that he had committed an unforgivable transgression. He had betrayed a friend. No, he had betrayed two. Trying to dissuade Bingley from a marriage with Miss Bennet was unjustifiable. It was evil. Breaking with Elizabeth violated every sense of justice he held dear. He discovered at the ball that she still loved him. Treating her as he did, he deserved not her love but her hate and contempt.

  If he felt any shred of decency towards Elizabeth and Bingley, he knew he must leave Netherfield. His presence caused only pain, upset, and grief, and certainly neither Elizabeth nor Bingley deserved further harm at his hands.

  He had been prepared to leave early, but now he descended the stairs to leave immediately. In the silence of darkness, he escaped from Netherfield and was now on the road to London. He had made no farewell, and now as he listened to the rattle of the carriage, he realized that perhaps he would not see either of them again.

  * * * * *

  BINGLEY AROSE EARLY WITH A discontented mind, and as he dressed, he thought about all the disadvantages under which he would suffer by being at odds with Darcy. It was unfamiliar ground for him, and he felt unsure of himself. He relied very much on Darcy’s opinions and sought out his counsel on all matters of importance.

  Bingley resolved that he would speak with Darcy that morning and would employ every power he possessed in the hopes of changing Darcy’s mind. In marrying Miss Bennet, he knew he was pursuing the best course for happiness.

  As Bingley passed through the hall into the breakfast room, he came upon his housekeeper. “Good morning, Mrs. Thomas. Would you please send me word when Mr. Darcy comes down? I will be in the library waiting for him.” Bingley began to move in that direction when his progress was arrested by her reply.

  “But, sir, did you not know that Mr. Darcy left early this morning for London?”

  “For London?”

  “Yes, sir. I offered to bring him tea, but he told me he could not wait, that he must leave, even at that instant. I am sorry. I thought he must have told you.”

  “Did he seem well?”

  “He appeared to be agitated and upset. He left in a violent hurry.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Thomas.”

  She left him to go about her duties, and Bingley stared for a long moment at the space she had occupied. Darcy’s sudden departure was wholly unexpected, and he felt himself resentful at the implications. He had not imagined that their disagreement would result in any type of breach between them, yet Darcy had left without a word. He was filled with regret that Darcy had left so precipitously but would not blame himself. He was resolved that he would marry Miss Bennet, even against Darcy’s wishes and without his blessing.

  Bingley moved behind his desk, penned a brief note to Darcy, and then took down a book. Although reading was out of the question, by leafing through the pages, he was accomplishing his real intent, which was to put off a visit to Longbourn until it was late enough in the morning that a call there would not be unwelcome.

  He was not long amused by the book, however, and took to pacing the floor by the fire. His thoughts wandered between Longbourn, where he thought with pleasure on the happiness he would experience when Jane accepted his ring, and the road to London, where he thought with irritation about Darcy. He was grateful to be interrupted by a servant who carried a parcel from Town. Bingley knew what he would find. It was his mother’s ring.

  He ordered his horse and prepared to ride to Longbourn. Today, he would give the ring to Jane. They had spoken of it. His proposal would be a formality. In no time, they would be married, and she would be not only his friend but also his companion and lover. There could be no greater happiness.

  * * * * *

  Netherfield

  Darcy,

  I am distressed that you chose to leave Netherfield without so much as a goodbye to your friend. I can only assume you were deeply hurt by our conversation. We have never differed on any point before. I have always changed my opinion to yours and followed your counsel implicitly, but this time I cannot.

  I find no greater happiness than the thought of Jane Bennet as my wife. You know why I think she would be more than suitable for me, and I know your objections to the match.

  I apologize for my part in our dispute. I know I must have hurt you with my allusions to Miss Elizabeth. It was wrong of me. Your situation with her is none of my business. I hope you will be ab
le to forgive me.

  I would like to ask you to stand up with me when Miss Bennet and I marry. I hope you will agree to come.

  You are my best friend and I remain yours.

  Charles

  Chapter 10

  JANE WOKE UP THE NEXT morning refreshed after a night of pleasant dreams. The ball had fulfilled her every expectation. She had danced with Mr. Bingley twice and was in conversation with him for much of the evening. He had also been very solicitous of Elizabeth’s comfort and had finally persuaded her to dance. Jane recalled the way she felt when Mr. Bingley kissed her hand when she departed from Netherfield. She was so happy! If only Elizabeth . . .

  Suddenly recollecting herself, she remembered that her sister had gone to bed quite upset. Upon entering Elizabeth’s room, she found her looking out a window.

  “Oh, Lizzy,” said Jane soothingly. She sat on the bed next to Elizabeth and put her arm around her. Elizabeth smiled faintly but did not speak.

  Elizabeth had arisen feeling quite disturbed, and her unhappiness was obvious. She had been undone during her dance with Mr. Darcy and now found herself quite angry and disillusioned after overhearing his conversation with Mr. Bingley.

  “I am distressed by my feelings for Mr. Darcy. I am so confused.”

  Jane sighed and nodded her head to encourage Elizabeth to continue speaking.

  “You were right. I should not have danced with him.” Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and she had to pause. “But I cannot completely banish him from my heart, and indeed, I do not want to.” She would not tell Jane what Mr. Darcy had said concerning their family or how Mr. Bingley had defended them.

  Jane reached out to Elizabeth and held her tightly. She felt Elizabeth’s tears on her neck and began to murmur endearments.

  Elizabeth knew that she had to accept that Mr. Darcy held her in no special regard — not now, not after hearing his conversation with Mr. Bingley. She was shocked at his attitude, not so much with respect to herself, but that he would have the presumption to try and dissuade Mr. Bingley from seeking Jane’s hand. Elizabeth was proud of Mr. Bingley. He had stood up to his friend, and he would not be swayed in his affection for her sister. Mr. Bingley was truly a good man, and Jane would be happy with him.

  Jane did not fully understand all that was troubling Elizabeth. “Your heart will mend. Please rely on me to take care of you. I love you very much, and I will do anything for you.”

  “You are too good, Jane.”

  They were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Mrs. Hill.

  “Excuse me, Miss, but Mr. Bingley has called for you. I have shown him into the drawing room.”

  “Thank you.” Turning to Elizabeth, she asked, “Will you come with me, Lizzy?”

  “Go to him, Jane. I will join you when I have composed myself.”

  “Are you sure? I will gladly stay with you.” She knew that Mr. Bingley would not be angry if she remained awhile with Elizabeth. He was not unsympathetic to her plight, and knew full well that Jane was Elizabeth’s only source of comfort.

  “No. I will be fine.”

  * * * * *

  JANE ENTERED THE DRAWING ROOM and felt her breath leave her at the sight of Mr. Bingley. As her love for him grew, he appeared to her to be more handsome each time she saw him, and today was no different.

  “Good morning, Miss Bennet. I hope I have not called too early.” She came up to him and he took her hand.

  “Good morning. You know very well that I am always pleased to see you, regardless of the hour.”

  “Will you walk out with me into the garden?”

  “I would like that very much.”

  Bingley closed the door quietly behind them as they exited the house. He spoke after a pause of several moments.

  “Will you . . . will you sit with me?”

  She nodded and they walked together to a bench that was protected from the house by a large tree. Bingley took her hand and kissed it but would not release it.

  “Miss Bennet . . . Jane . . . I have come to see you with a purpose this morning.” He had rehearsed this moment in his mind many times, most lately on the ride from Netherfield, but now he could not remember what he had determined to say.

  She smiled brightly at the sound of her name and suspected what was to come. He had never used her Christian name before, and her anticipation was excited.

  “And what purpose might that be, sir?”

  “I have come here to express to you my love and to tell you that you are dearer to me than anyone. I love you so very much. I want you to know that I treasure each moment we have ever spent together, and I am looking forward to the time we will share in the future. Please grant me that future. Please accept my pledge to care for you and cherish you for the rest of my life. Please accept me as your constant companion. Please consent to be my wife.”

  Jane looked at him joyfully. While she had expected his addresses, the open avowal of his love brought her happiness she had never known. These were the very words she wanted to hear. This was the future in which she wanted to live, she by his side, happier with him than she could ever be alone.

  “Yes, I will,” she whispered, grasping his hand with both of hers. “I will be so happy to be your wife.”

  Bingley brought out the small box that contained the ring.

  “This ring, Jane,” he said, her name rolling off his lips, “belonged to my mother. Please accept it as a token of my love for you.”

  “Oh, Charles! I do, I do accept it!” His name fell naturally from her lips, and she felt as comfortable with it as she was with her own.

  He slipped the ring on her finger with a feeling of satisfaction. It fit perfectly.

  “I must tell you how much I love you. I have never felt more fulfilled or content with my life than I have since I met you. There is nothing I desire more than to be your wife. Thank you for wanting me. Thank you for your love. I have never been so happy!”

  She held her hand up so she could admire the ring in the morning sunlight. It was a brilliant diamond ringed by pearls. Bingley’s mother’s name and wedding date were engraved inside the shank of the ring. It was beautiful, and knowing that it had belonged to his mother, whom he had dearly loved, increased its importance.

  He released her hand and caressed her cheek. Sensations were spinning through her body, and she found herself holding her breath. He leaned into her and softly kissed her. She responded as he deepened the kiss. She was lost in the feeling of his lips on hers, the touch of his hand on hers, and the beating of her heart. She knew she belonged to him and resolved at that moment to spend the rest of her life making him happy.

  * * * * *

  DARCY FOUND HIMSELF PACING THE floor of his study in London with a letter in his hand. It was another invitation from the Tildens to join them for dinner on Saturday of the next week. He was at odds with himself as to what he should do. It was obvious that his recent behavior toward Miss Tilden had been considered encouraging enough that her father wanted him back in her company. Darcy had no doubt that Miss Tilden would accept his attentions with pleasure.

  Miss Tilden was accomplished in the usual sense of the word, playing and singing extremely well. She spoke French, a language that he himself knew, and she enjoyed the theatre and the opera. In fact, she seemed to enjoy all the things that he did. Coincidence, or conspiracy? She was rich and well-liked in the fashionable circles of London. Except for Lady Catherine, who insisted that he should marry his cousin, Anne, his family, as well as his late parents, would approve of Miss Tilden. Should that not mean that he approve of her, as well?

  Darcy returned to his desk and penned a note accepting their kind invitation

  * * * * *

  BINGLEY HAD TASTED JANE’S LIPS as long as he dared, knowing full well that it was time to return to the house. He released all but her hands, relishing in her acceptance of his love, and rejoicing in the thoughts of what the future would bring.

  “Jane . . . ”

&n
bsp; She loved hearing the sound of her name on his lips. It was his right to so address her, she knew, and she was glad of it.

  “ . . . shall we go back into the house so I may speak with your mother?”

  “I like hearing you say my name, Charles.”

  “Then let me say it again, Jane.”

  * * * * *

  BINGLEY WAS NOT AT ALL concerned about approaching Mrs. Bennet. He knew she would give her consent to any man who wished to marry one of her daughters, and he had to restrain himself from resenting her for it. How could a mother so easily part with a daughter, let alone give her up to any man that presented himself?

  Jane left Bingley in the drawing room, and after sending Hill to bring her mother to him, retired upstairs.

  Mrs. Bennet was slightly annoyed that Jane should send Hill to summon her, for she was quite comfortable sitting in her dressing room. With a frustrated sigh, she set down her work and followed Hill downstairs to see what her disagreeable daughter was about. She was not expecting to find Mr. Bingley alone and apparently waiting for her. He stood as she entered the room and bowed to her.

  “Mrs. Bennet, good morning. I am delighted to see you.” As he spoke, he took determined strides towards her.

  She was surprised at his action. “And I, you, Mr. Bingley. Where is Jane? Hill said she wanted to see me.”

  “I am sorry. There must be some confusion, for it is I who wished to speak to you. May we sit down?”

  Mrs. Bennet sat herself down and began to fidget with her handkerchief.

  “Very well. What may I do for you?”

  “I wish to speak of your eldest daughter, Miss Bennet. I wish —”

  “Oh, Jane!” interrupted Mrs. Bennet. “She is the loveliest girl in the country, do you not agree? She has by far the sweetest disposition of anyone I know, and is five times as pretty as any of my other girls. The others can be quite wild on occasion, especially Lizzy, but not Jane.” She paused to smile at Mr. Bingley. “Jane is as gentle as a lamb.”