He continued. “You are a man of sense and understanding. You cannot possibly consider that matters of the heart exceed the considerations of fortune, connection, and rank. Who is it that you claim to love? Surely, she would be found wanting in a comparison with my daughter.”
Darcy rose to his feet in anger. “Sir, I beg that you will importune me no further!”
Mr. Tilden, not yet discouraged, continued to pursue the matter. “Mr. Darcy, you must satisfy me. Why will you not consent to marry my daughter?”
“Because, as I have said before, I do not love her.”
“And as I have said before, it takes more than love to make a good marriage. You must believe me. I speak from experience.”
“Mr. Tilden, I am certain that there is nothing but love that can ensure a happy union.”
“Consider what you are throwing away. How can you walk away from such an offer?”
“Mr. Tilden, please consider what it is that you are throwing away, or should I say, who. We are speaking of the happiness of your daughter, of a thinking, feeling individual, not a piece of property to be bartered about. Think of her, Mr. Tilden, and stop thinking of me.”
“I can see that further conversation with you is pointless.” He rose, and bowed stiffly. “I take my leave, sir.” And he was gone.
Darcy sat back heavily into his chair, exhausted from the confrontation. Mr. Tilden had recommended a comparison between his daughter and the woman he loved. Darcy had compared the two. And while it would not be fair to criticize Miss Tilden, Elizabeth’s superiority was clearly established.
* * * * *
IT WAS ONLY URGENT BUSINESS that could call Darcy away from his home, and his visitors were equally as rare. He had very few acquaintances who made any effort to see him, his reticence having offended many.
But Darcy had every reason to be happy. The indescribable joy he felt on hearing that Elizabeth was not married gave him every reason to hope. The hint in Bingley’s letter was obvious. It had been just two days since he sent his missive to Netherfield, and any day now, he hoped to hear something.
As he walked through the hall to the library, his butler petitioned for a moment of his time to inform him that the post had just arrived, and that there was a letter for him. Darcy, feigning composure, calmly accepted the letter, thanked the man, and then walked quickly across the hall. When he knew he was alone, he looked at it to see if it was the one for which he had been waiting.
He could not tell. The directions were written in a fine, flowing, feminine hand, but he had never seen Elizabeth’s writing, so he did not know for certain. It was addressed from Netherfield, but there was no name on it. He held his breath as he opened the envelope. The note was not dated and contained just three words.
Please come back.
Accompanying the note was something he recognized. He laced it through his fingers and kissed it. It was Elizabeth’s purple ribbon.
* * * * *
DARCY’S EXULTATION COULD NOT BE constrained to the confines of his library. He literally burst out of his townhouse and walked briskly into a nearby park to stride down the walks and avenues. It was a simple note, but he read it over and over again. The ribbon did not leave his hand. It was the most precious gift he had ever received. It was an invitation from Elizabeth to love her once again.
As the excitement of the moment wore off, he began to doubt himself. Perhaps she just wanted to be on good terms with him again. Perhaps it was merely a token of friendship. Then he remembered the significance of that ribbon when they were together at the stream, when he kissed it, and then her. There was no mistaking her meaning then, and there could be no mistaking it now. There could be no two opinions about it. She still loved him.
After taking a few more minutes to compose himself, he returned home and began making the arrangements for an immediate removal to Netherfield. If he left now, it would be after dark by the time he arrived in Hertfordshire. This would be unsafe as well as inconvenient to the Bingleys, and certainly Elizabeth should be given notice of his coming. He would, however, announce to them his imminent arrival, and so he penned two letters.
London
Bingley,
I am taking the liberty of traveling to Hertfordshire in the morning to call on you, and more specifically, to wait on Miss Bennet. She has communicated her wish to see me, and I will answer it immediately.
Please extend my warmest thanks to your wife. I know she has been intimately involved in all the particulars that have occurred to make my presence in Hertfordshire not unwelcome to Miss Bennet.
I wait for the morning with eagerness and impatience, as you may well understand. I look forward to seeing you all.
Yours, &c.,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
The second note was much shorter and more to the point.
Dearest Elizabeth,
I will be with you before dinner tomorrow. Please forgive me.
All my love,
Fitzwilliam
* * * * *
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, A servant delivered two letters to Netherfield. Both were given to Mr. Bingley. With pleasure, he read the one addressed to him, which announced Darcy’s imminent arrival. Bingley had expected that Darcy would come once his wife told him that Elizabeth had sent him a note. Though he did not know the contents of her letter, he knew it would bring Darcy to Netherfield and had therefore instructed Mrs. Thomas to prepare Darcy’s usual bedchamber.
After a moment of deliberation, he decided that Jane would be best suited to deliver the second letter to Elizabeth. He sought out his wife and gave her both letters. They exchanged a kiss, and then she went directly to her sister.
Jane found Elizabeth in her bedchamber. “Lizzy, I have news for you! Two letters have arrived from Mr. Darcy, and one is addressed to you!”
The color drained from Elizabeth’s face for a moment.
Jane offered the letters to Elizabeth. “Here. There is one for you, and another for Charles. He thought you might like to read it, also.”
“Oh, Jane.”
“I will leave you alone to read your —”
“Oh, no!” interrupted Elizabeth. “Please, stay.”
Jane smiled and sat down on the bed next to Elizabeth and watched her as she opened the letter and began to read. She could tell by the expression on her face that it brought welcome news.
“All is well! He loves me!” Elizabeth clasped the letter to her heart.
“Of course he does!” replied Jane, embracing her. “How could he not?”
Jane’s sense of relief was great. For the first time since Elizabeth’s fall, she felt that she had done the right thing.
“He is coming today!”
* * * * *
ELIZABETH SPENT THE REST OF the morning in a nervous agitation of spirits. Always on the watch for a carriage, she waited impatiently in the drawing room, alternately looking out each window.
Finally, for Elizabeth’s peace of mind and to give her something to do, Jane encouraged her to walk out for a while. Mr. Darcy could not possibly arrive for another hour or two, and she would send for her immediately upon his arrival. Elizabeth agreed to anything that would help pass the time.
“Where will you walk, Lizzy? To the stream?”
Elizabeth could not hide her smile. “Yes, Jane, I believe I will.”
* * * * *
DARCY ANTICIPATED THAT HIS JOURNEY to Netherfield would be tedious and long. Fortunately, he was wrong. The whole time his thoughts were filled with memories of Elizabeth, from his first discovery of her on the path, through all the joy they shared together during her recovery, and when he kissed her by the stream. He was unable to put from his mind the images he had created of what Elizabeth must have felt and looked like when she learned of his sudden departure. Seared into his very being were the events of the night when he last saw Elizabeth. He was jealous at the thought of Mr. Grinly touching her, and knew that as soon as he was able, he would kiss away all remembrances of hi
m from her heart.
In a shorter time than he thought possible, the carriage pulled up in front of Netherfield. Alighting from the coach, he breathed in the fresh scent that he had come to associate with Hertfordshire. His anxiety rising, he approached the door with cautious steps. Before he could knock, it was thrown open by Mrs. Bingley.
“Mr. Darcy, you are very welcome! We have been awaiting your arrival.”
“Thank you for the welcome and for all that you have done. I have no doubt that your husband was speaking for you in his letter.”
Jane responded with a smile.
He continued. “I am grateful for the invitation.” He hesitated and looked around for a moment.
“Elizabeth,” said Jane with an amused smile, “is out walking, but she asked me to call for her just as soon as you arrived. Perhaps you will oblige me and go for her yourself?”
“I would be very happy to, as you are well aware.”
“Indeed I am, sir. I believe there is a small stream nearby with which you may be intimately acquainted?”
“I am.”
“She is there now, sir. Go to her. She has been waiting for you for a very long time.”
The meaning of her words and the tone of her voice did not escape him. He looked at her apologetically.
“I promise you that I will never do anything that will ever bring her pain again.”
“Thank you for your assurance. Now go.”
After watching Darcy quickly descend the steps and hurry off behind the house, Jane returned indoors and thought with pleasure on the future happiness of her sister. That Darcy was the one man who could bring joy into Elizabeth’s life was not in doubt, and that both he and Elizabeth finally understood this relieved Jane of a great deal of remorse. The misery of watching Elizabeth suffer over the past weeks had been awful. She knew the next time she saw Elizabeth she would be smiling again, and for this Jane was exceedingly grateful.
* * * * *
DARCY KNEW EXACTLY WHERE TO find Elizabeth, and he moved expeditiously in that direction. He slowed his pace as he came to the small clearing by the stream, savoring the anticipation of seeing her again.
He pushed through the edge of the woods. There she was!
My Elizabeth!
He had never seen a sight so beguiling. She was seated on a rock dangling her fingers in the water. For a moment, he was transported back to the time when this scene had played itself out before. He knew that this time it would end differently.
She was humming a tune to herself as she trailed her hand through the water. She had let her hair down, and it cascaded across her shoulders, partially shielding her face from his view. Her movements were graceful and the sound of her voice was enticing. His breath caught in his throat at the intimacy of what he was witnessing. This was Elizabeth in her true environment, outside and at peace. Her hair would not be down unless she was certain that she would not be seen. Yet, she had told Mrs. Bingley where she could be found.
Elizabeth had done this for him. She knew he would come for her and desired that he find her just as she was — innocently in love, free from deception, and willing to give herself to him in heart and body. He gently spoke her name.
* * * * *
THE WATER APPEARED FRESH AND inviting, and for just a moment, Elizabeth nearly forgot the reason she was there. Nearly.
Mr. Darcy was coming.
She stepped over to a familiar rock and sat upon it, letting her fingers fall into the water. She wet both hands and wiped her face, chilled for a moment as the water dried in the gentle breeze. She took out her hairpins and combed her fingers through her hair. The breeze pushed a few curls across her face.
This time, as well as on all prior visits to this place, her thoughts drifted back to the occasion when Mr. Darcy found her here. She could not recall the words they had exchanged. All she could remember was how he drew near to her and closed the distance between them. Soon he was sitting by her, then touching her hand, then holding her, then kissing her. It was beyond familiarity. It was intimacy. It was need. She needed him, and he had been there.
Once again, she needed him, and he was coming. It was while she was engaged in this happy thought that her reverie was broken by a familiar voice pronouncing her name.
* * * * *
SHE TENSED AT THE SOUND.
She was still for a moment, neither speaking nor moving, as she calmed herself. Despite the pleasure she felt at his arrival, there was apprehension and uncertainty. She had been at this place with him before and had left it with assurances of his love, but then he had broken her heart.
“Is it really you?” Elizabeth withdrew her hand from the water and dried it on the skirt of her dress.
“Yes.”
“Why are you here?” Her voice was soft, and he strained to hear her.
“I have come to claim you as my own.”
Elizabeth felt a diffusion of warmth overspread her body. Summoning her courage, she looked up at him and saw an expression of love and yearning that immediately put to rest any doubts she had of his regard and calmed her fears and uncertainty concerning his intentions towards her.
“Elizabeth, please forgive me. I have been wracked with guilt and torment from the moment I left you. There has been no peace in my life and no hope for happiness until I received Bingley’s letter telling me you had not . . . that you were not . . . ”
“Married,” she concluded for him.
“Yes. I know that you have suffered because of my foolish desire to submit to the expectations of other people.”
“What expectations were those?”
“I have lived much of my life striving to earn the love and affection of my father. Doing so became a habit that did not end with his death. On the subject of marriage, he was most clear. He did not believe I could be happy if I did not marry a woman of equal fortune, connections, and rank. I had never felt loved by my father. After my mother died, he barely seemed aware of my existence. This was the only request he ever made of me. I longed to be loved by him, and I promised never to do anything of which he would not approve.”
“Mr. Darcy, I ask you again, why are you here?”
“I have learned that all that matters in a marriage is love. Having arrived at this knowledge, I resolved immediately to return to this place, beg your forgiveness, and seek to regain your affection. As I was preparing to leave London, I received Bingley’s letter announcing your engagement to Mr. Grinly.”
She raised her hand quickly to her heart. “Please, sir, do not speak of that. It is painful to me. I hurt Mr. Grinly deeply, and that knowledge weighs heavily on my conscience.”
Elizabeth offered her hand to Darcy. He took it and sat down near her.
“You must forgive me, Elizabeth, indeed, you must. I hope that by explaining my actions, I can begin to prove myself worthy of you at last. I am not beyond redemption.”
She bit her lip, looked up at him until meeting his eyes and then turned away. Had she not taken his hand with both of hers, he would have thought his suit was hopeless. “I was a fool. I was wrong. I was seeking acceptance from a long dead parent who could do nothing for me, and in so doing, denied to myself the happiness I could enjoy with you. That was not the worst part. You had entrusted your heart to me, and I failed you and left you in pain.” He moved as if to take back his hand, but she would not release it.
“I beg that you will forgive me.”
“I have long forgiven you, sir,” she said as she caressed his hand, “and I now seek your pardon.”
“You have done nothing wrong.”
“I have been so unwise, so weak and inconstant!”
“Elizabeth, to whom should you have remained constant? To a man you were convinced did not return your love?”
“I had hoped to forget you, but I could not. I did not love Mr. Grinly, but I thought that in time I might. He is a good man, and I love his daughter very much. He offered me a good life and a good home. He was devoted to me, though there
were never any feelings of passion. There was no craving or desire, and I realized the night I saw you at Netherfield that there never would be because I was still very much in love with you.”
“Then why did you send me away? I would have married you instantly.”
“I had pledged myself to Mr. Grinly. I had accepted his offer. You had hurt me. I felt rejected by you, and I was afraid to expose my heart to more pain. Because I did not love Mr. Grinly, I knew he could not hurt me in the same way. When Mr. Grinly realized that I was still in love with you, he insisted our engagement be ended because he could see that I already belonged to you and he could not make me happy.”
He took her hand and held it to his lips. “I wept as I left Netherfield. I was overwhelmed by the pain of losing you. It was unendurable seeing you with another man.” She felt him shudder as he spoke.
“Fitzwilliam, I knew that you would be pained when you learned I had left Netherfield without seeing you, but I could not have done otherwise. I had not the courage to face you. Please forgive me.”
“Please, let us try to put our pain behind us. We both made mistakes. We have both sought and received forgiveness. All that matters now is that we are together.”
“Fitzwilliam, what will become of us?”
He caressed her cheek with his fingers, drawing lazy circles over her delicate skin. She closed her eyes to enjoy the sensations he was creating inside her, delighting in the warmth and security they contained.
“Elizabeth,” he said softly. Her eyes opened, and she saw him slowly move towards her, and gently resting his arm around her shoulders, he drew her near him, and brushed her lips with his own.
“Elizabeth,” he repeated, his lips caressing her cheek as he spoke. “There is no future for me without you.” Firmly, and in such a manner as bespoke neither hesitation nor uncertainty, he folded her in his arms and kissed her. His kiss communicated passion and yearning. It spoke of the heartache he had suffered at her loss and of the regret he felt in having hurt her. It was filled with anticipation for a future that would be happy only if it included her. It was a kiss of healing. It was a kiss of love.
She nestled up against him, lacing her hands around his waist and holding him tightly. Out of the relief of having the unknown revealed, the waiting ended, and her love rewarded, she softly cried. ”Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, “I am so happy.”
Rocks in the Stream Page 28
