by Jane Hunter
She had shamed herself and put her family at risk—and for what? For declarations of love and admiration, and the empty promises of a gentleman who was engaged to another.
Elizabeth knew that tears would do her no good. They did not solve anything, and they did not take away what had been done, but she could not stop them from stinging her eyes and tumbling down her cheeks. After so much time spent despairing over Lydia’s errors in judgement, Elizabeth herself was now in the same predicament. Ruined in every sense of the word, but unlike her younger sister there would be no mysterious benefactor to step in and rescue her from an unkind fate.
She would have to return to Longbourn and try to pretend as though nothing had happened. She would have to keep every secret locked away tightly, never to be revealed. Not even to Jane.
“Jane,” Elizabeth whispered. Her sister’s hopes to secure mr. Bingley’s affections would never come to fruition now. Not if anyone were to find out—and Mr. Darcy, he had intervened when his friend’s affections for Jane were made known. What would stop him now from declaring that their family was unfit for such a match? Had that been his intention all along? Elizabeth’s tears of despair turned at once to tears of anger and frustration. She sat up in bed, suddenly furious, not just with herself, but with Mr. Darcy as well.
How dare he?
After so much investment in time and money to secure Lydia’s marriage to Mr. Wickham had he now decided that the only way to keep his dear friend from tying himself to an entirely unsuitable family was to prove that the women of the Bennet family were all so easily manipulated?
Elizabeth swung her legs over the bed and clenched her teeth as the cold floor met her bare feet. Felicity would not take the news of her decision to leave lightly, but Elizabeth was determined to get as far away from Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy as quickly as possible.
She pulled a robe around her shoulders and rang for a maid. Elizabeth moved purposefully and quickly to wrap the muddy gentlemen’s clothing and boots into the length of tartan it had been delivered in.
When the maid arrived with tea, Elizabeth sent her away again carrying the bundle with instructions to deliver it to Felicity’s room. The girl looked somewhat confused, but asked no questions and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief as the maid left the room and walked down the hall without a backward glance.
She poured a cup of tea and sat at her vanity, staring into the cup without knowing quite what to do with herself. She should pack her valise and request that a carriage be called to take her to London… yes, that would do. Her beloved aunt would have some words of advice, surely.
But how much of what had happened could be revealed? Mrs. Gardiner was an astute woman, and there was a very good chance that she would be able to guess the source of her niece’s despair—it was a chance she would have to take.
There was a soft knock at the chamber door and Elizabeth got up from the vanity and opened the door without thinking. “Lizzy!” Felicity pushed past her and strode into the room with purpose and an expression of bewildered confusion upon her face. “Alice brought me your clothes… I was not expecting to have them returned so soon.”
“No, indeed,” Elizabeth said firmly. “I must leave Grenleigh.”
“Leave? But Lizzy—”
“Today. I must leave today. Felicity, I am sorry, but you must understand—”
Felicity shook her head and set her hands upon her hips. “I most certainly do not understand,” she exclaimed. “You have only just arrived! Whatever has happened to make you want to leave so soon? Was it something I said? Did something happen? Did Lady Percival say something to you? Did you receive a letter filled with dire news?”
“No, no. Nothing of the sort,” Elizabeth said desperately.
“Then I can see no reason for you to want to leave Grenleigh.” Felicity voice was as stern as her expression, and if Elizabeth had been in a different mood she would have laughed, but she was not in a different mood. She was frustrated, furious with herself, and distraught… all things she had not felt at the same time for several months. Not since she had learned of Lydia’s ruinous disappearance from Brighton…
“But I must leave,” she said. “You must understand—”
“I forbid it,” Felicity said firmly. “If cannot explain why you must leave, then I cannot allow it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Elizabeth who felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. Felicity was a charming girl, and she was exceedingly unconvincing when she tried to be serious—she always looked as though she were on the edge of bursting into laughter.
Elizabeth sighed and sank onto the edge of her bed. “Lady Percival did mention something,” Elizabeth said finally. “Mr. Darcy—”
“What about Mr. Darcy? Lady Percival knows a great many people, but I am still surprised that she would know anything about Mr. Darcy that would upset you.”
“He is engaged to be married!” Elizabeth blurted out.
Felicity’s laughter filled the room and Elizabeth bristled just a little. It was not a mocking laughter by any means, but she had not been prepared for such an outburst. “Is that all?” Felicity gasped. “It does not surprise me, he is a gentleman of great wealth and position… it is a wonder that he has been a bachelor for so long, especially with his aunt leaning over his shoulder on every possible occasion.”
Elizabeth brushed a hand over her face, more to hide her pained expression than anything. “Indeed,” she managed to say softly.
“Are you upset to learn of this news?” she asked. “I was under the distinct impression that what Mr. Darcy did was of very little concern to you.”
“As it should be,” Elizabeth said. “The news took me by surprise, that is all.”
“Enough surprise to cause you to leave Grenleigh? No, no, my dear Lizzie. If you do not wish to speak to Mr. Darcy any longer, then we shall conspire together to keep you out of the gentleman’s way. I am sure there are other eligible gentlemen who would be very interested in sharing conversation with a young lady such as yourself. I shall introduce you to several before the end of the week and I promise that you shall forget how to pronounce Mr. Darcy’s name by Friday evening.”
Elizabeth finally allowed herself to laugh. Felicity could not fully understand what was happening inside her head, or her heart, but Elizabeth was not about to tell her friend about what was truly driving her need to depart Grenleigh. Perhaps she would be able to pluck up enough courage to speak to Mr. Darcy alone. He owed her an explanation—and apology. Something.
“You have convinced me to stay,” Elizabeth said wearily. “But you do not need to introduce me to anyone. I fear that I will be very poor company for any gentleman.”
“Nonsense!” Felicity scoffed. “I am the happiest girl in Scotland, and I shall be most distraught if my dear friend is slighted in any way. Come now, we shall have breakfast in the conservatory. I will arrange everything. But you must promise to put a smile on your face and forget all about Mr. Darcy and whatever Hamish’s despicable cousin has said to you. I am firmly convinced that woman lives only to make others miserable.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly and grasped Felicity’s hand gratefully. She did feel a little better, but not much. Felicity was convinced that she had solved all of Elizabeth’s problems, but she had only bandaged a wound, not healed it.
Elizabeth and Felicity breakfasted in the conservatory as promised, and Elizabeth did her best to keep up with her friend’s lighthearted barrage of conversation. She was consumed by wedding plans, and Elizabeth could only smile and nod while every detail was described.
“Oh, but you must come back to Grenleigh to be my bride maid,” Felicity gushed. “You are as close to me as any sister, and as I have none, I should be honored if you would stand at my side.”
“Felicity,” Elizabeth gasped. “I… of course I will. Nothing would bring me more joy than to be with you on your wedding day, but are you sure there is no one else—”
“There is no one I would rath
er have,” Felicity exclaimed. “Please do not refuse me, Lizzy, I should be distraught without your calming presence.”
“You have my promise,” Elizabeth said with a smile. As much as she cared for Felicity, she did not know what else to say. Had anyone else asked her such a thing, she would have declined, but it seemed a poor repayment of Felicity’s kindness to do so now.
Just as they were finishing their tea, a maid rushed into the room with a letter. Felicity held out her hand, but the young woman came to Elizabeth, instead. She smiled briefly as the maid put the folded parchment into her hand. Felicity pouted briefly, but then leaned forward eagerly as Elizabeth turned the letter over to read the name of the sender.
“Who is it from, Lizzy? I never get any letters. Perhaps I should write to my cousins in London more,” she mused. “Come now, will you open it?”
Elizabeth recognized the seal and the delicate handwriting and the knot in her stomach loosened just a little. “It is from Jane,” she said quietly.
“Will you read it now?” Felicity asked.
“Oh… no, I think I shall wait,” Elizabeth replied. Ordinarily she would not feel self-conscious to read a letter aloud, but Felicity had been away from Hertfordshire for so long, and she had never been as close to Jane.
“You should read it while you walk. I do it often,” Felicity said with a smile. Elizabeth was relieved that Felicity did not press the issue, and that she was not offended by Elizabeth’s reluctance to share her sister’s words.
“I believe I shall,” Elizabeth agreed.
“There is a lovely walk down to the shoreline,” Felicity offered. “I walk there often when I am troubled.”
“I am not troubled,” Elizabeth protested.
Felicity smiled sympathetically and shook her finger at her friend. “Oh, Lizzy, you cannot lie to me. Perhaps Jane’s words will give you some comfort.”
Elizabeth nodded, unable to deny Felicity’s observation. “Perhaps you are right.”
“Here, take my shawl.” Felicity held out her heavy shawl and Elizabeth smiled as she took it from her hands. “Do you have gloves? The wind is cold today.”
“I do,” Elizabeth said.
“You will find the path at the edge of the kitchen gardens,” Felicity said as she poured herself another cup of tea. Elizabeth smiled briefly and pulled Felicity’s shawl over her shoulders. It was heavier than the one she had borrowed from Jane and she was grateful for it. Her gloves would provide more protection from the cold, and Elizabeth hoped that the woollen stockings she had chosen would be thick enough to keep out the worst of the wind.
She let herself out of the conservatory and stepped out into the garden, which was still frosted with silver where the morning sun had not yet reached. Elizabeth’s breath hung in the air and she coughed slightly at the surprising chill. There would be snow here before long, she thought.
Elizabeth’s shoes crunched through the gravel as she followed the path through the garden. She straightened her shoulders as she walked past the wooden gate that led out into the heather. She could not think about that. Not ever again.
The path led around the house as Felicity had said, and she increased her pace as she smelled the rosemary and fresh herbs that marked out the beginning of the kitchen garden. She smiled as she sighted the path that branched off away from the gardens and led toward the shoreline.
With Jane’s letter in her hand, Elizabeth picked her way down toward the sound of the crashing surf. The winter wind had whipped the waves into a frothing frenzy and Elizabeth blinked as the smell of the ocean salt stung her nostrils. She would not go far, just enough so that she was out of sight of the house.
The surf pounded against the rocks and Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as she watch the foam fly into the air. She had not been this close to the ocean in a very long time, and the shoreline at Brighton was never this wild.
Elizabeth clambered over the rocks and perched upon a smooth, flat stone. She stared out over the dark water and watched the waves move across the rough surface. What was she going to do?
Tears pricked at her eyelashes and Elizabeth brushed them away before they could fall. She should be focused on Jane’s letter. There was nothing she could do to fix what had been done.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and fumbled at the letter’s seal. She let out a frustrated noise as the seal finally gave way and blinked away the tears that had returned of their own accord. As she read Jane’s familiar handwriting, a sense of calm began to wash through the tightness in her chest.
I cannot tell you the excitement that has filled the house—Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield Park. We are told that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst will follow in a very short time. There is some talk that they will be staying well into Christmas, and may have plans to remain for quite some months afterward.
Oh, Lizzy, I had very nearly given up all hope that Mr. Bingley would return to Hertfordshire.
“Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth said softly. Her sister had been distraught by Mr. Bingley’s silence, she could not imagine how joyfully this news would have been received.
Certainly, Miss Bingley had given me no cause to believe otherwise, but Papa has been to Netherfield Park to call upon the gentleman and returned with nothing but smiles and good news. I have truly not seen Mama in such good spirits for quite some time.
There is talk of another ball to be hosted at Mr. Bingley’s request, and I do hope that you will return before it is to take place.
“I will,” Elizabeth whispered. “I will.” She could not imagine any place she would rather be than at Jane’s side when Mr. Bingley returned to declare that his true affection for Jane had not dimmed. She was sure that it was so, there could be no other explanation for it. Mr. Darcy had spoken truly when he had said that there would be a return to Hertfordshire.
The letter had been written several days ago, and Elizabeth lamented that she had only just missed the gentleman’s arrival at Netherfield Park.
Elizabeth read and re-read the letter and then folded it carefully once more. She would write back to Jane immediately and tell her that she would be returning to Longbourn sooner than expected. She could not say why, but perhaps Jane would feel braver knowing that she was coming.
She stood up from her seat on the rock, chilled through from the wind that lashed the beach. The surf pounded against the rocks, and the gulls that wheeled above screeched loudly at the grey Scottish sky.
“Looks like snow,” she muttered. Elizabeth tucked the letter into a pocket in her dress and stared out over the water. The water was dark and flecked with white foam, and Elizabeth was mesmerized by the way it ebbed and flowed around the smooth stones that made up the rocky beach. There was no sand here, no softness. Only hard rocks and hard truth that could not be avoided.
“Elizabeth!”
She looked up at the sound of her name, but as she turned, her foot slipped on a patch of seaweed. She stumbled and reached for something to steady herself, but there was nothing for her to grasp—no way to stop herself from tumbling back and into the dark frigid water that crashed against the rocks.
Elizabeth gasped as the icy water stole away her breath. It filled her eyes, her ears, her mouth, and she thrashed for the surface, desperate to escape the cold embrace of the dark ocean. The current tugged at her dress and chilled her to the bone, and she could feel herself being pulled away. Her shoes scraped over the rocks, but she could not gain any footing.
Desperate.
She was desperate for air. But the surface was so far away, and the salt water was everywhere. Her ears were full of the roar of the ocean, and the salt water stung her eyes and blurred her vision. Her head broke the surface once, enough to draw one small breath before a wave closed over her head and the water pulled her away from the shore again.
She could not escape. And it was so cold.
So cold.
She reached once more for the surface, hoping for the impossible, and when her fingers scraped
against something coarse and yielding in the water she could not quite believe that it was real.
As though caught in the depths of a dream, Elizabeth felt a firm hand close around her upper arm and pull her from the water. She wanted to sob with relief, but the ocean was all around her, and the screams of the gulls were loud in her ears. The last thing she saw before the world went dark was a swirl of angry grey clouds in the sky above.
“Lizzy! Lizzy, please wake up!” Felicity’s voice sounded so far away and Elizabeth struggled to open her eyes. She had heard nothing but gulls and the crashing of waves until that moment and she was full of relief to hear a familiar voice.
“Felicity,” she murmured and felt her friend squeeze her fingers tightly.
“Lizzy! Oh, you are awake… I am so happy to know that you are all right… the doctor was not very forthcoming with his information, and I have been beside myself with worry.”
Elizabeth pressed her palm against her cheek and opened her eyes slowly. She was still so cold and her teeth chattered. The first thing she saw was Felicity’s blurry face and her friend’s eager eyes, wet with tears.
“What happened,” Elizabeth croaked. Felicity spread another blanket over the bed and reached out to help Elizabeth sit up against the pillows.
“You fell into the water,” she said. “You slipped. Mr. Darcy said—”
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth spluttered.
Felicity blinked at her in surprise. “Yes,” she said. “He saw you fall, he pulled you from the water and brought you back to the house. He saved your life, Lizzy.” She leaned closer and laid a hand upon Elizabeth’s shoulder. “He has been waiting for you to wake up. He has visited every day.”
Elizabeth tried to sit up on her own, but every bone and muscle in her body ached, and her head pounded. “Every day?”
