Mr. Bennet peeked around one of the guests to check on his youngest daughters as he pocketed Darcy’s hopes. “I warn you I am not much of a correspondent, yet I shall do my best.”
“Please inform Miss Elizabeth I shall not surrender my wishes. We are still courting, and I will return to seek her hand.”
His beloved’s father smirked. “Then I look forward to your next call at Longbourn.”
Chapter 13
Light penetrated the fine slit between her eyelids, and sent a searing pain to her skull. Elizabeth groaned. What time had she finally fallen asleep? Her family returned some time after the clock struck three, but she had not ventured downstairs when they arrived. Instead, she cowered inside her bedchamber with her head tucked under her pillow.
Jane had given a light knock upon the door, but Elizabeth had not been equal to company. She had no desire to disillusion her dear sister, much less reveal her own doomed romance. How she struggled to maintain her composure as it was! She certainly could not be expected to recount the night before with any equanimity to another.
She rubbed her fingers against her temple in an effort to relieve the throbbing of her head. The thought of food brought a foul taste to her mouth, but perhaps some tea would set her to rights.
A light rap prompted her to sit and draw her legs close to her chest. “Come in.”
The door opened a fraction, and Jane peeked through the resulting crack. “Are you feeling better? Papa said you departed the ball early because you were ill.”
“My head still aches, but I would welcome your company.”
Her sister entered and made herself comfortable on the end of the bed while Elizabeth pulled the coverlet around her shoulders. When they were both settled, Jane brushed a curl from Elizabeth’s brow.
“You are a bit peaked and your eyes are swollen. Have you been crying?”
A folded piece of paper was in Jane’s hand. Elizabeth pointed to it. “What do you have?”
“Oh! Mrs. Hurst sent a letter early this morning. The visitors at Netherfield have all returned to London. Mr. Darcy must have informed you of their planned departure.”
Elizabeth was faint. Mr. Darcy left? “What did Mrs. Hurst say?”
Jane proffered the letter, which Elizabeth took with the utmost care. Why was she so timid? The letter would not burst into flames upon her touch.
Miss Bennet,
I apologise for not taking my leave as I should have done, but my brother awoke determined to depart for London. He claims to have business to attend, and is most eager to settle his future. Unfortunately, we are not certain if his obligations will allow him to return to Hertfordshire before the end of the year.
Mr. Darcy, who travelled with my brother at first light, is eager to return to town. He has missed his sister, and anticipates being reunited with her. I hope I am not too forward when I say that I am certain he will conclude his affairs in a swift fashion in order to return at his first opportunity.
I do not pretend to regret anything I shall leave in Hertfordshire except your society, my dearest friend. I do hope we might find ourselves in company together sometime soon, and in the meanwhile; we may lessen the pain of separation by frequent and unreserved correspondence. I depend on you for that.
Yours ever,
Louisa Hurst
Her vision blurred. Mr. Darcy had departed Netherfield. What was wrong with her? Why was she crying? She had begged him to leave her be, and he left. Was it not what she wanted?
“Lizzy?”
She used the bed sheet to wipe her eyes. “Do not mind me. I am being ridiculous.”
Jane’s eyes narrowed. “You are not telling me all that occurred last night.”
“Please do not ask it of me, Jane. I do not feel capable of reciting the tale. I am afraid it would do neither myself nor Mr. Darcy credit.”
“The two of you had a disagreement, and you did not let him explain.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms with a huff. “I do not require his excuses. I am certain of what he intended.”
“Oh, dearest.” Jane placed an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Mr. Darcy spoke with Papa for a time last night. He appeared so dejected and tired. Are you sure you know what you are about?”
“I know what I heard.” She blinked several times in rapid succession. She would not cry again!
“He loves you, and you love him. I know you do.”
She rose and stepped over to where her day gown hung upon a hook. “I shall have to overcome such silly sentiments. He was not worth my time and is not worth my tears.”
The sound of Jane’s sigh rang in her ears, but she paid it no heed as she dressed for the day. Once Jane fixed her hair, Elizabeth led the way to the dining room where, upon their entrance, Mrs. Bennet began waving her handkerchief.
“My poor Jane! Mr. Bingley has used you very ill—very ill indeed! How could he have departed without a hint of an understanding? It is beyond my comprehension!”
Elizabeth bit her lip to prevent a retort from escaping her lips. There was a lot beyond her mother’s comprehension!
“And he took Mr. Darcy with him! Just when he was beginning to become agreeable!”
Elizabeth seated herself at the table and began to prepare her tea. When she looked across from her, Mr. Collins gave a simpering smile to both her and Jane. Oh no! He did not believe them to be eligible, did he? Granted, they both had no offers of marriage or betrothals, yet neither would divulge as much to him!
“It is all your fault, of course!”
Her head jerked to her mother as she almost spilled the milk.
“Why you had to depart the ball last night when matters were going so well between you and Mr. Darcy! He needs a wife to bear his heir! He does not desire a sickly woman for his mate! He must have found you pretty enough, though he might have preferred Jane had Mr. Bingley not shown his preference first.”
A lump rose in her throat. She swallowed hard, though it was difficult.
“But then Mr. Darcy might have enjoyed my Lydia’s company. A man as reserved as he is might favour a lively wife.”
“Lizzy, would you please join me in my book room?”
Her head spun to her father, who stood in the door. What a blessed relief!
“Bring your tea.”
The sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor sent a shiver down her spine. “My dear, Mr. Bennet,” said Mr. Collins, “I hoped to speak with Cousin Elizabeth this morning—privately. If such a meeting can be arranged.” Mr. Collins gave a condescending smirk as he rose from a short bow.
“Mr. Collins, I have informed you on more than one occasion that Lizzy is being courted by Mr. Darcy. Regardless of your information, which Mr. Darcy refutes, I shall not allow her to become betrothed to another. Even should Mr. Darcy indicate he wishes to end their courtship, I would still not allow such a quick betrothal. The gossip that would arise from such a hasty alliance would not be in my family’s best interest.”
Her mother’s eyes were wide with a hand pressed to her chest. “But Mr. Darcy has deserted Lizzy. He will not return! I am certain of it!”
“Well, I happen to know Mr. Darcy would disagree with you, Mrs. Bennet. He spoke with me at length last night in regards to his return and his intentions towards our second daughter. You would not wish to displease a gentleman of ten thousand pounds a year by betrothing the lady he is courting to another, would you?”
Her mother’s jaw opened and shut several times, but not a sound emerged.
“Come, Lizzy.” Her father held out his hand. “I must speak with you.”
Without argument, she sprang from her chair and held her breath until the door of his study was closed behind her. She sank into her favourite spot and set her cup and saucer upon the desk.
“Thank you, Papa.”
While I agree you required aid, we do need to have a conversation in regards to Mr. Darcy and your courtship.”
“Nothing can be gained by repeating the happe
nings of last night. Our courtship is at an end, though I am not at all averse to pretending otherwise until our cousin returns to Kent.”
Her father eyed her over his spectacles as he pulled a book from the shelf, moved to his well-worn chair, and sat. “I loathe disagreeing with you, but I believe Mr. Darcy will not accept defeat without argument. He is a determined young man, and he appreciates your worth, which renders him more agreeable in my view.”
“He cannot have a reasonable excuse!”
“Yet he claims he does.”
Righteous indignation spurred her from her seated position to pace to and fro. “He would see Jane broken-hearted by forbidding Mr. Bingley from offering her marriage. After all, Mr. Darcy insisted Mr. Bingley depart for London this very morning.”
He rose and placed his hands upon her shoulders, halting her in her tracks. “Has it occurred to you he has good reason? Perhaps Mr. Bingley never intended to offer for Jane?”
“If that is the truth, then Mama is correct, and he has used her very ill indeed.”
“Lizzy, how long have Mr. Bingley and Jane been acquainted?”
An incredulous chirp of laughter erupted from her lungs. “You know the answer to that question as well as I do.”
His steady gaze remained serious. “Humour me. How long?”
“Since the assembly, so the eighteenth of October.”
“That is just over a month, is it not?”
“Well, yes, but sufficient time for one to develop feelings for another.”
“I agree, yet when has Mr. Bingley pursued your sister? When has he taken more than a friendly interest in her?”
“He stood up with Jane twice at the assembly!”
Her father gave a sad smile. “They had just met and dance partners were scarce, as I recall your mother’s lament. The action was careless on his part, but hardly a prelude to a proposal.”
“The concern he showed for her while she was ill!”
“May have been indicative of his care for any guest who ailed while residing in his home.”
She knocked his hands from her shoulders. “You are determined—”
“To be realistic,” he interjected. “Mr. Bingley may have preferred Jane to the other ladies in Meryton, yet I saw no symptoms of partiality on his part. I daresay he found her to be agreeable company.”
“If you are correct, Jane will be heartbroken.”
With a wave of his hand, he made a dismissive sound. “Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her companions.” He stepped around his desk and relaxed into his chair. “I daresay you are fancying yourself crossed now.”
Her back became rigid. “I am hardly finding this pleasurable, Papa.”
He placed a letter upon his desk. “Then read his explanation. Mr. Darcy detested the idea of departing Netherfield today. He did not want to leave matters with you unresolved, but he had no choice. He is a man of consequence and has responsibilities beyond what I could fathom with merely Longbourn in my charge.”
Her eyes traced his flowing script. How her fingers itched to rip the missive open and absorb the words written within, but could those sentiments be trusted? She stood and stared until the clock on the mantel chimed the hour. She jumped. Her blurry vision moved to her father, she shook her head, and departed without a word.
December 3rd 1811
What had he meant by returning? Had she not made her wishes clear when they quarrelled but a week ago? A sharp pain in her thumb made her draw the nail she had been biting back. She was not bleeding, so she began to gnaw upon the nail once more.
What was that sound? Her father would not bring Mr. Darcy to her room, would he?
When she had recognised his familiar form, approaching the house on horseback, she had run for her bedchamber, despite her mother’s loud remonstrations. Jane had attempted to cajole her to see Mr. Darcy, but Elizabeth could not. Setting eyes upon his face would be too painful. Nothing had changed. No explanation could right his wrong.
A door opened below and gave a long creak; Mr. Hill never had greased the library door. The low tones of Mr. Darcy’s voice resonated through the floorboards, and she drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her forehead upon her knees.
She closed her eyes as the timbre of his voice soothed the ache in her chest—the ache that had remained since the night of the ball. If only she could run into his arms and relieve her suffering!
The front door closed, and she scrambled across the bed to the window. Eager eyes peered around the draperies and watched him climb astride his mount. When Mr. Darcy’s gaze roved over Longbourn’s façade, she jolted back; he could not know she was watching him.
“Just leave,” she muttered under her breath. He would have left eventually, so it was better for him to depart now. Perhaps the pain would not be as long-lived this way.
The sound of hoof beats indicated he had begun his return to wherever he was going, and she again, peered forward, watching until his broad shoulders disappeared around the bend in the road.
She closed her eyes as a warm, wet droplet landed upon her cheek. She did not want to cry again! Her hands covered her face, but a loud wail from below startled her from her own grief.
With a rough swipe at her face, she darted out of the door, down the stairs, and slid to a stop in the doorway of the parlour. Her mother was fanning herself frantically as Jane stood at one shoulder and her father at the other, holding a paper where her mother was able to read it.
“My salts! Hill!”
Her father straightened and made his way to her. His lips were pressed into a fine line, and his eyebrows drawn in the middle. “Perhaps you should read the gossip column as well.”
Wary fingers wrapped around the proffered sheets of paper, and pulled them forward until the words were legible. No recognisable name, yet how could they be familiar when they were the initials or vague descriptions of gentlemen from that county and ladies from this county. It was useless! She made to return the paper, but her father thrust it back and pointed to a specific passage.
It is now rumoured that a certain lady from Kent was whisked from town a year ago when her understanding with a certain wealthy tradesman from Yorkshire was revealed to her family. The latest word is that the lady, Miss AdB, has returned to London with her beau to finally plan the long-awaited nuptials.
Her eyes widened. “Mr. Bingley?”
“Yes, and Miss Anne de Bourgh. Do you not remember when Mr. Darcy corrected Mr. Collins about his betrothal to his cousin? He indicated she was promised to another, who did not have the approbation of Lady Catherine.”
“He did say as much, but he never indicated it was Mr. Bingley!”
“He could not very well reveal such matters when Mr. Bingley did not yet have the approval of her family. According to Mr. Darcy, Lord Fitzwilliam agreed to consider Mr. Bingley if he made further strides towards becoming a landed gentleman while Lady Catherine was adamant the union would never occur.”
“Which is why Mr. Bingley took the lease on Netherfield?”
Her father nodded. “Lord Fitzwilliam felt if Mr. Bingley continued and remained true to Miss de Bourgh, he was not marrying her for her fortune.”
“If rumours are to be believed, Mr. Bingley has five thousand pounds per annum. He is no pauper.”
“But he is not gentry, and she is the heiress of Rosings.”
Her eyes blurred. “This was Mr. Darcy’s explanation?”
“Yes,” he replied with a disappointed tone. “One you would not allow him to deliver in person or even perhaps by letter.” Her father held out the missive Mr. Darcy offered her the day after the ball at Netherfield. Trembling fingers took the proffered note and traced her name written in a neat, concise hand.
“I never dreamt—”
“You did not give him a chance.”
Elizabeth stepped past her father. “Jan
e, are you well?”
The once overwhelming wails of her mother ceased. “Is she well? Of course she is not well! Why would you ask such a ridiculous question?”
Jane squeezed her mother’s hand. “Mr. Bingley was pleasant company, but he made me no promises. He never gave any hint of regard for me.”
“He indeed showed you preference!” cried their mother. “He stood up with you twice at the assembly! He requested the supper dance at the Netherfield ball.”
With a sigh, Jane knelt before her mother. “He may have enjoyed my company, but he was amiable and pleasant. He never looked at me in the same manner Mr. Darcy gazes upon Lizzy. I want the man I marry to love me as I love him. I do not wish for a gentleman who merely feels polite affections.”
“Affection?” Her mother’s eyes were wide as she stared at Jane aghast. “He has five thousand pounds a year. I would be pleased to tolerate amiable and polite affections for such a sum.”
“Then it is truly a shame that he did not like you best of all.” Their father leaned against the doorframe behind them. Had he not returned to his book room?
“Papa!” Jane gave an incredulous laugh.
Her mother’s shoulders began to shake as though she were crying a river, yet not a tear fell from her eyes. “What good are Mr. Darcy’s gazes if Lizzy will not see him?”
“That is enough of your caterwauling, Mrs. Bennet. You will not alter the outcome of either situation with your laments, so I do expect them to cease.”
Jaw agape; her mother stared at her father, speechless for once, yet she would not remain as such for long. The note in Elizabeth’s hand scraped against her palm as it begged to be opened. Her grip tightened around it, curling it within her grasp. If she was going to escape, the time was at hand.
“Please excuse me.”
Elizabeth’s hurried steps aided her withdrawal. Her outstretched hand ripped her bonnet from its peg and she ran until she reached the pond where he had kissed her. A misty rain fell from the sky like the tears she now wished to God she could shed. They flowed like a river earlier. Why would they not do so now?
Particular Intentions Page 12
