by Jan Hahn
“Not referring to my mother as a degradation upon your father would be as good a place to start as any.”
He stepped closer and fixed an angry stare upon me. “I told you that is not what I meant! Are you so thick that you cannot comprehend my words, or do you look for any reason you can find to dismiss me from your presence? What is it truly, Elizabeth? Do you dislike me with such fervour that you must make up transgressions I supposedly cause?”
“Why should I make up anything? You provide excellent cause without assistance!”
Our eyes locked together, his darkening once again—this time with anger. His jaw tightened, and the vein stood out along his temple. Our breath came quick and hard. My heart raced, and I supposed his did the same. His eyes moved to my hair, my cheeks, and down to my lips, and then…he blinked several times, looked away, and stepped back, releasing my hand. He turned his back, but I could see his laboured breathing as he struggled to calm himself.
What had just happened? How could an argument erupt between us with such passion? I turned away and engaged myself by donning my bonnet and straightening the ribbons. When I looked up, he still had not turned to face me.
“Sir, I…”
He lifted his hand in dismissal. “Pray, Elizabeth, not another word. We are both too angry right now. I fear we will utter words that neither of us can forgive.”
What had I done? I swallowed, opened my mouth to speak, but said nothing. I deliberately walked slowly through the trees, out of the wood, and into the lane, hoping he would stop me once again, but he did not. Further down the road, I turned twice to see whether he followed, but I saw no one. I returned to Longbourn, sick at heart, grieved that I had wounded him so. How could a time of joy turn to sorrow in a single moment?
Why did an ordinary day once again become a day of anguish?
][
Mr. Darcy did not bring Georgiana to visit Longbourn on the morrow. She arrived with Jane and without mention of a reason for her brother’s absence. My parents welcomed her. Mamá was obviously in awe of her fine clothes, and Mary and Kitty seemed pleased to renew their acquaintance with her. Jane persuaded her to play for us, and all were suitably impressed with her talent. When Mary took over at the instrument, Kitty drew Georgiana aside to view the trimmings on her latest bonnet. She seemed overwhelmed at first with all the attention, but after tea, she joined Kitty for a stroll in the garden and appeared at ease in her company. It was good to hear the sound of their laughter float through the open window.
Jane wore a weary expression as she answered our mother’s constant questions regarding her health and plans for the nursery. After she explained the same things for the third time, I rescued my sister by requesting her able assistance in the stillroom.
“Oh, Lizzy, your sister is far too busy now to putter around that musty old place with you. She has servants to arrange her flowers, a service you might enjoy if you would take advantage of your connections with the Darcys and encourage the men you might meet through them.”
“Mamá, if I had fifty servants to arrange my flowers, I would still prefer to do them myself as I quite enjoy it,” I replied. “Come, Jane, you must see the blue hydrangeas. They shall make excellent dried arrangements for autumn.”
She was only too eager to join me, and we spent an hour of contentment secluded in our refuge. We talked of Mr. Bingley’s excitement over the coming babe, how she had caught the upstairs maid pilfering her perfume, the fact that Mr. Bingley’s favourite horse had to be put down, and the upcoming ball he wished to hold before she progressed too far in her confinement.
Never once did she mention Mr. Darcy, and I began to despair of gleaning any intelligence of him. I could not help but worry that he remained too angry with me to bring Georgiana to Longbourn himself, and yet, I knew not how I might broach the subject without revealing our quarrel.
“You must have been surprised when Mr. Darcy and Georgiana arrived on your doorstep unexpectedly,” I said at last.
“Surprised, but not displeased. Charles enjoys his company, and I find his sister delightful. With such pleasant cousins, Lizzy, I wonder that you do not wish to return to Pemberley.”
“It is tempting at times, particularly when Mary practices the same song for half the day. Tell me, do they plan a long visit?”
“No. In fact, Mr. Darcy announced at breakfast they would leave within three days. Charles is disheartened, but thus far, none of his arguments have dissuaded his friend.”
“Will he not even stay for the ball?”
“You said yourself, Lizzy, that Mr. Darcy does not like to dance. Perchance that is the reason for his sudden removal.”
“Perchance,” I murmured, although I knew the answer all too well. He could not wait to place miles between us. I must have wounded him even more than I feared.
That night, I could not sleep. Three days pounded in my ears like a relentless throbbing headache. He would leave Hertfordshire, and I might never see him again. Is that not what I wanted? Had I not repeatedly told myself that it would be better if we forgot all about each other? And yet, my heart ached at the realization that we would part in anger.
What if he were killed in some accident along the way? I could never tell him that I was sorry I had spoken harshly. He was wrong to disparage my mother, and yet, it seemed insignificant in comparison to the possibility that the last words Mr. Darcy heard me utter were filled with bitterness and ill feeling. If only he would call upon me before he left Netherfield Park.
But he did not come.
Early on the morning of the third day, I arose, sipped a cup of coffee, and slipped out the door. I determined to walk to Netherfield, hoping to see Mr. Darcy before he departed or, even better, chance to meet him before I reached my destination. I knew he enjoyed an early morning walk before the world awakened, as did I, and I prayed he would take one last tramp through the wood before setting out on his journey. I hurried to Oakham Mount, but found it solitary. From there, I ploughed through the wood until it opened upon the secluded pond where we had last seen each other. I heard no sound other than frogs croaking and an occasional fish surfacing to feed.
Sick with disappointment, I returned to the road and turned in the direction of Mr. Bingley’s estate. Within moments, I heard the sound of a carriage approaching. Although I stood well out of its path, I made certain I was clearly visible to all riding within. My heart jumped into my throat when I recognized that the vehicle belonged to Mr. Darcy. Surely, he would direct the driver to halt when he saw me. I began to breathe easier when I saw the horses slow down as they approached, but to my utter dismay, the carriage did not stop.
Mr. Darcy sat at the open window, his arm resting on the sill. He stared into my eyes as he passed by, but he did not lift his hand in any semblance of a wave. I followed him with my own eyes, turning around completely to watch him disappear around the bend. A cold chill crept up my spine at the expression I had seen on his face.
Nothing remained on his countenance other than bleak resignation and a sadness I cannot describe.
Chapter Eleven
After the scene on the roadway, days crawled by with unreasonable tediousness. I sometimes thought daylight stretched into twenty-four hours before evening fell. I longed to be alone with my thoughts, to avoid my family’s questions as to why I suffered such discomposure and what had become of my former lively self. While spending the required hours in their company following supper, I counted the minutes until I could flee to my chamber. Why, I do not know, because sleep deserted me.
For hours, I sat by the window, gazing at the stars and wondering where Mr. Darcy was. What is he doing? Does he still think of me with anger?
I tortured myself with the possibility that my hasty accusations had severed all regard he might have felt for me. If only I could see him once more and make things right between us. When I did sleep, troublesome dreams disturbed me. I constantly chased after something, but what or who it was I knew not.
After a m
iserable week had passed, Jane drew me aside one day at Netherfield. At her invitation, I had come for dinner, along with Mamá and my younger sisters. After we dined and my mother began to doze in the parlour, Jane suggested the girls and I join her for exercise in the park. She cleverly led me down a separate path from Mary and Kitty, thus securing our privacy.
“Now, Lizzy, I insist you tell me what causes this unvarying dark temper to linger about you,” she said firmly, linking her arm within mine. “Your countenance is as downcast as it was during the days following Lady Catherine’s unfortunate visit. Has something else befallen you?”
I coloured and turned my attention to the summer daisies. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. Tell the truth, and face me when you speak. Your eyes have always revealed when you attempt to deceive.”
“Do not be silly, Jane. I have no reason to lie. I am simply weary with life.”
“Weary? You? Why, Lizzy, you have always found stimulation in everything around you. Your wit and intelligence have served you well in the past. Why should you find life wearisome now? What circumstance has altered? Do I dare say you have changed your mind and now wish you had tarried longer at Pemberley?”
“Perhaps. I do not know. I just feel as though I am smothering at Longbourn. I cannot find one reason to anticipate the future other than the birth of your baby.”
“There has been a scarcity of social activities this summer, perhaps because of the unusual heat. But lest you forget, our ball is set for Thursday night. There should be a full moon, and Charles has planned every last particular. He refuses me licence to participate at all for fear of plaguing my well-being.”
I smiled. “Your husband is very attentive.”
“To a fault! If he had his way, I would lie in bed all day and be waited on hand and foot, but enough about me. You shall not escape my inquiries by changing the subject. Is the lack of suitable admirers in Hertfordshire cause for your dissatisfaction?”
“No, Jane, I am resolved to remain an old maid most likely and become a favourite aunt to your children because I shall spoil them excessively. Do not worry so.”
“An old maid! Not you, Lizzy, not with your romantic nature. No, I know there is someone, a man as perfect for you as Charles is for me. And with any luck, he is coming to Netherfield for the ball.”
I laughed lightly. “What makes you think that?”
“Charles told me that a stranger is coming, a single man of modest fortune, someone neither you nor I have ever seen.”
“Oh? And does he have a name?”
“Mr. Hayden Hurst.”
“Hurst? Not—”
“Yes, he is Mr. Hurst’s younger brother, and he arrives with Louisa, Caroline, and Mr. Hurst tomorrow.”
I could not help it. My mouth dropped open. “Surely, you would not wish me married to Mr. Hurst’s brother! Why, that would make me sister to Louisa.”
“You can bear it if I must. I prefer to imagine him an exceedingly agreeable man whom you may highly esteem in many respects. Besides, he may not resemble his brother at all. With any luck, he will be as handsome as Charles.”
“With my luck, he will favour the reading material of Mr. Collins!”
We both commenced to giggle, which brought Mary and Kitty running around the shrubbery to hear the joke. The afternoon succeeded in lightening my spirit for a while, but I entertained few hopes for the Netherfield ball.
My fears were not unwarranted, for Mr. Hayden Hurst proved to be as I expected—a younger version of his brother. Although not yet quite as rotund, his affinity for food and drink foretold a future in his brother’s image. Even had he been handsome enough to tempt me, his disinterest was evident. He danced only two dances, choosing Caroline Bingley for his partner. Afterward, he sat beside his brother, sharing his attachment to the wine bottle.
Ah well, it mattered not to me. Observation of the younger Mr. Hurst’s foibles provided passing amusement. I danced sufficiently with the few eligible men among our company, dined on delicious food, and enjoyed watching Jane bask in the light of Hertfordshire society as well as the loving looks of her husband. All in all, it was a pleasant enough diversion, but nothing more.
The days thereafter provided little variation, and the blackness descended upon my spirit once again. No matter how I tried, I could not rid myself of thoughts of Mr. Darcy.
The next week, however, the arrival of the post made my heart beat faster. I received a letter postmarked from Bath. My hands trembled as I unfolded it. Had he possibly written to me? How disappointed I was to see Georgiana’s signature signed neatly at the bottom.
Oh! I said to myself, but at least I would have some news. I flew up the stairs, closed the door to my chamber, and settled myself in the window seat to read in peace.
Dearest Elizabeth,
How I wish you were here with us!
One can never tire of Bath. The honest relish of balls and plays and everyday sights would fascinate you, my dear cousin. And I must tell you of the Pump Room. The natural spring waters are said to provide excellent medicinal properties. Mrs. Annesley and I visit the place almost every day. I find myself in awe when Lady Dalrymple arrives with her following. She deigned to speak to me on Tuesday and said she recalled my parents from summers she spent in Derbyshire.
Still, I am lonely much of the time. Wills spends the majority of the day cooped up in our uncle’s library with our aunt. She is a hawkish sort of woman, spare and rather dried up, but pleasant enough, especially in comparison with Lady Catherine. I know not why they search through old journals, ship logs, and records that belonged to my uncle. When I ask Wills, he says he is researching our family history, but he did the same thing at Eden Park. And at Rosings, he questioned Lady Catherine until she became even more peevish than usual. I ask you, how much family history can one search for?
I did make a lovely friend at last night’s ball in the Upper Rooms. Her name is Maria Simpson, and she is but two years older than me. Her older sister, Emily, is magnificent, and she was surrounded by beaus the entire evening. I do not think she sat out one single dance. Even Wills asked her to dance more than once, which I found amusing as he so rarely puts himself out for anyone. I am to meet Maria at the Pump Room this afternoon.
Oh, I must tell you this. Wills and I (and Mrs. Annesley, of course) leave Bath for Ireland within a fortnight! It will be my first sea voyage, and I am excited and frightened at the same time. I do wish you were going with us. I should not be nearly so afraid with you beside me.
Do write, and tell me the news at Longbourn. Till then, I remain
Your affectionate cousin,
Georgiana
Ireland! Why would Mr. Darcy sail for Ireland? The only reason I could think of would be to seek his uncle Peter Darcy. Had he discovered something new, something of importance that would cause him to undertake the journey? And yes, I wished I could also make the trip—how exciting that would be—but I knew it was out of the question.
I re-read the letter, hoping I had overlooked some message from him. Not one word. He had not even extended his regards to me. Surely, he knew to whom Georgiana wrote, and yet, he remained locked in that stony silence my angry words had provoked. Oh, why had I not held my tongue?
Resentment settled upon me when I read the part about Mr. Darcy dancing with Miss Simpson. I could imagine his attentions directed toward her, for I knew how exciting it was to dance with him. Two dances…she must be truly handsome to claim his time to that degree. He would surely call upon her, or perhaps he would join Georgiana for tea with the younger sister, and Miss Simpson would attend as well. Suddenly, I became aware that my breath was coming hard and fast.
What are you doing? You have no right to be jealous. He is your brother.
I knew he would find someone eventually and marry. I just always thought it far in the future—that someday we often speak of that never actually arrives. I allowed my mind to wander once more. I could see their marriage in
the chapel in Derbyshire, her installation as mistress of Pemberley, even the birth of a son who inherited Mr. Darcy’s dimples.
I jumped up, pulled open a drawer to my desk, threw the letter therein, and slammed it shut. Grabbing my bonnet, I tripped down the stairs and invited Kitty to walk to Meryton with me. I told her I was in the mood to buy a new bonnet. She hastened to join me, alive with anticipation at the thought of shopping and so grateful for my attention that it shamed me. I had neglected her and Mary, but at the moment, I craved distraction, company, anything that would erase those dreadful images from my mind.
][
Two days later, the Gardiners and their children arrived at Longbourn. The entire week before, Mamá had complained because her brother had written and asked whether they might leave my young cousins in our keeping while they travelled on to their destination. Yet, naturally, she agreed to their request.
“My sister has no idea how the noise and confusion tries my nerves,” she said repeatedly. I sighed, as I knew full well that my sisters and I would be the ones who entertained the children.
I assumed Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner would stay for a long visit, so I was surprised to learn they planned to depart Longbourn within four days.
“Pleasure bent again, I assume,” Mamá said with a disapproving eye.
“A bit of pleasure and work, Fanny,” my uncle answered. “Madeline is due a holiday, and since I have business in Bath, we decided to make an expedition of it.”
My eyes opened wide! “Bath? You are going to Bath, Uncle?”
“Yes, my dear. It will be an agreeable trip, I am sure. Since your mother has generously agreed to allow the children to remain at Longbourn, it promises to be a true excursion. ’Twill bring back fond memories, for your aunt and I spent our wedding journey there many years ago.”
He turned a loving eye upon his wife, who turned a delightful shade of pink. I rose and took a chair closer to them.
“I have always longed to see Bath.”
