Only Mr. Darcy Will Do

by Kara Louise

  Mrs. Willstone raised an eyebrow at this. “She may have eloped?”

  Elizabeth looked back down at the letter. Jane, while not wishing to distress Elizabeth, truthfully wrote that marriage between them was not likely. It was the officer with whom she ran off, however, that caused her much distress. Lydia had run off with George Wickham! Lydia’s actions alone would bring disgrace to her family, but being that it was with George Wickham would certainly bring an end to any feelings Mr. Darcy still had for her.

  Tears began to fall freely as she made an attempt to answer Mrs. Willstone. “It says that Lydia left a letter, and it is assumed they are in London.”

  “And not married?” Mrs. Willstone asked, motioning to Rosalyn to remove Emily from the room.

  “It is… not known.”

  A look of abhorrence plainly coloured Mrs. Willstone’s features. In a soft, low voice, she said, “Miss Bennet, this is grave, indeed.”

  Elizabeth looked up. “Jane has asked for me to come.”

  Mrs. Willstone’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment, and then she said stiffly, “Yes, dear. You must go to London. It is only right.”

  Elizabeth looked at her with surprise. “But my duties to Emily…”

  Mrs. Willstone waved her hand in the air. “We shall manage. But how shall you get there? We cannot loan you a carriage, and we certainly cannot expect Mr. Darcy to loan you one of his to take you all that way.”

  “I suppose I shall have to hire a post chaise. Perhaps I can get one from Lambton.”

  Mr. Willstone made a suggestion. “Your friends in Lambton might be of assistance.”

  “Yes!” exclaimed Mrs. Willstone. “Certainly they will help.”

  Elizabeth slowly looked up. “They did tell me if I needed anything…”

  “You must send them a note,” interrupted Mrs. Willstone. “Inform them that you need to leave for London as soon as can be arranged. Inquire whether they will allow you to come tonight. We can certainly loan you our carriage to convey you to Lambton.”

  Mrs. Willstone stood up and walked over to a desk. “Come, Miss Bennet. The sooner you send off a note to them, the sooner you will be on your way.”

  Elizabeth stood up and slowly walked over. She could not deny that she was pleased Mrs. Willstone was being so obliging, but she could not help feeling she was merely trying to rid the home of her. Her feelings warred within, as she greatly wished to be with Jane, yet she did not want to leave Pemberley and Mr. Darcy.

  She sat down at the desk and began writing, her hand shaking. Mrs. Willstone hovered over her. “Be sure to let them know that you are quite in need of their assistance… that you would greatly appreciate any help they can give. Do not give them too many details… they may not offer their help if they know the unfortunate particulars.”

  Elizabeth scribbled a short missive, only briefly detailing the situation, but expressing her need for their help. A servant was summoned and asked that someone deliver the note as soon as possible and to wait for a response.

  Mrs. Willstone stood up, holding herself erect. Elizabeth thought how tall and imposing she now appeared. “Miss Bennet, it would be best to pack your belongings so you will be ready to leave as soon as we hear back from your friends. I shall have one of our maids come and assist you.”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. Everything was happening faster than she wished. “I do not have many things. I can manage.”

  “Good. We would not want to bother the Pemberley staff with this. We must try to keep this as quiet as possible.”

  Elizabeth turned to look at her employer. “But I should like to say good-bye to Mr. Darcy and his sister… to thank them for their kindness and generous hospitality…”

  Mrs. Willstone shook her head. “Tsk, tsk. They will likely not even notice your absence. Besides, I understand that Miss Darcy left just a short while ago to pay a call on someone. You will likely be already gone by the time either of them returns.”

  Elizabeth’s heart sank and her shoulders sagged with the weight of these past few minutes. She could barely take a breath, and her mind scarcely allowed her to comprehend all the consequences her youngest sister’s actions would have on her… and her family. She was already being shunned by the Willstones because of the possible disgrace to her family, and she would now likely be dismissed by the man who once sought her hand and now had secured her heart.

  Back in her room, she was grateful for the solitude. Pulling out her travelling bag, she opened it and placed it on the bed. She went to open the drawers, pulling out some books and the stack of letters she had placed beneath them. She then went to the closet and retrieved her dresses and folded them as carefully as possible to prevent them from wrinkling.

  She looked down at the two books she had in her possession. One was Cowper’s book of poems, and the other was the illustrated bird book. She would have to return them to the library. As she picked them up, there was a knock at the door. Elizabeth answered it and found a young servant girl standing there. “I have a letter for ye that just arrived.” She handed it to Elizabeth. “Can I be of any help? Do ye need some help with your packing?”

  “I am just about finished, but please, I would like a few moments to read this first.”

  The maid nodded and waited while Elizabeth opened the letter and read the words from the Ketterlings. They were more than happy to make any arrangements for her to journey to London, and welcomed her to stay with them as long as she needed. She looked up at the maid. “Once I am finished packing, I will need my things to be brought down. I will be leaving to go to my friends in Lambton. The Willstones offered me their carriage if you would be so kind as to inform them that…” Elizabeth took in a shaky breath, “…that I will be leaving.”

  The maid curtseyed. “Yes, ma’am. I will notify them and send a manservant for your parcel.”

  She turned to leave, but Elizabeth stopped her. “Excuse me, but do you know if Mr. or Miss Darcy have yet returned?”

  The maid shook her head. “Not that I have heard.”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth said softly. “Would you also be so kind as to return these books to Mr. Darcy’s library?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the maid said as she picked up the books and turned to leave.

  Elizabeth walked over to the window and looked out over the beautiful grounds. She turned her head to look at the ridge behind the house. Her heart lurched as she thought about how much she longed to join Mr. Darcy up there in the morning to watch the sunrise. The very last thing she placed in her bag was the pair of mud boots.

  With a sadness and grief that pervaded her whole body, she stepped from the room and for one last time walked down Pemberley’s grand staircase.

  Upon meeting Mrs. Willstone downstairs, Elizabeth was informed that their carriage was being readied, and she would send one of their maidservants along with Elizabeth to Lambton. Emily stood at her side, her eyes stained red from tears.

  “Emily wished to say good-bye, but please make it brief,” Mrs. Willstone said icily.

  Elizabeth stooped down and wrapped the little girl in her arms. “I will miss you, Emily,” she told her. “You keep practicing your playing and singing. Will you do that for me?”

  Emily nodded. “Do you have to go, Miss Bennet? Why do you have to go?”

  Mrs. Willstone placed her hands on Emily’s shoulders and gently pulled her away. “There, you have said your good-bye. Now, Emily, be off with your friends.”

  A look passed between Elizabeth and Emily that spoke of the love and affection they had for one another. Elizabeth fought to keep back her tears.

  “Where is Rosalyn?” Elizabeth asked. “I should like to say good-bye to her.”

  Mrs. Willstone let out a long sigh. “She is spending some much wanted time with Mrs. Goldsmith. I would not wish to interrupt them. They are becoming good friends, and we know how important that will be in Mr. Darcy’s eyes.”

  Mr. Willstone then walked in. “The carriage is ready, Miss Ben
net.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Willstone. Good-bye. Good-bye, Mrs. Willstone.”

  As she walked away, she felt as though her fate was already settled in their minds, and she most likely would never see them again. She could live with that, but hardly believed she could bear it if she never saw Mr. Darcy again.

  She stepped outside and as she walked down the front steps, turned to look down the length of Pemberley from one end to the other. It was this place and its Master that she would miss so terribly. How she wished she could at least have said good-bye. How she wished she could at least have had a morning walk with him. She reminded herself that it no longer mattered. A tear fell freely down her face, which she did not bother to wipe away.

  As she approached the carriage, she nodded at the maidservant who waited there. It took all of her strength to step up into it. When she was finally in and seated, she kept her head to the window, longing to see Mr. Darcy hurrying out to prevent her departure. As the carriage began to pull away, she imagined him coming out and rushing after it, his hand reaching out to her.

  She inhaled deeply, her breath shaky. She knew that once he learned what happened—including all the particulars—he would be grateful she left. It was probably better this way—he would not be put in the position to make polite apologies, while feeling all the disgrace of the situation.

  She gazed toward the magnificent house as the carriage drove around the circular lane and then away from it. She wished to see Pemberley and all its grandeur as long as she could. She had a sombre conviction that she would never see it again.

  When she arrived in Lambton, the Ketterlings welcomed Elizabeth graciously. They were only acquainted with the fact that there had been a family crisis, and Elizabeth needed their help. They offered her their home for as long as she needed to stay and assured her that they would secure transportation for her to London as soon as possible. Mr. Ketterling informed her that he would inquire first thing in the morning whether a conveyance would be leaving some time tomorrow.

  They did not press her for information but allowed her some privacy in the room that would be hers during her stay. Once left to herself, Elizabeth collapsed onto the bed and allowed the tears to fall. She convulsed with sobs that came from the depths of her very soul. She closed her eyes, trying to wipe away the images of Mr. Darcy that intruded. But more than that, she wished to still those ardent feelings that had developed over the past week. She did not leave the room for nearly an hour.

  Alone there, she contemplated all that this would mean for her whole family. The worst for Lydia would be if Wickham took advantage of her with no intention of marrying her. He had no reason to marry her—she had no fortune. Elizabeth wondered how long Lydia would remain with him after she discovered the truth. The longer she stayed, the worse her reputation would be ruined.

  She thought with alarm how Mr. Bingley might choose to end his engagement with Jane if their family was tarnished by Lydia’s actions. It certainly would be a true test of his love and devotion to Jane. Elizabeth could only hope it was strong enough to weather this storm.

  Then her thoughts went to Mr. Darcy. She could not pull up one ounce of hope that he would overlook this offence. Even if his love for her had remained constant this past year, this was certainly a disaster of the worst kind. To consider marrying someone whose family reputation was now tainted by the thoughtless and dissolute actions of the youngest sister would be damaging to his name as well as his sister’s. Add to that the fact that George Wickham was involved was even more devastating.

  Mr. Darcy had every reason to despise the man and would assuredly do anything to protect his sister and keep her from him. If Wickham did marry Lydia, as unlikely as Elizabeth felt that would be, Mr. Darcy would put as much distance as he could between her, her family, and himself.

  Elizabeth dried her eyes and dabbed her face with a moistened cloth, steeling herself to leave the shelter of her room. She knew dinner would be served soon, and she felt obligated to tell the Ketterlings everything that had occurred. She would not reveal all, particularly Wickham’s involvement, but she would be forthright about Lydia. She was fairly confident that she could trust them to be understanding.

  They were served a delicious meal, but Elizabeth ate and drank very little as she relayed to them the news she had received. She picked and poked at her food, only occasionally taking a bite. The Ketterlings were, as she expected, very sympathetic and offered her kind words of consolation. While she expressed her appreciation for their words, in truth they did little to soothe her pain.

  Mr. Ketterling assured Elizabeth that he would check with the livery station on carriages that could convey Elizabeth to London. He warned her, however, that due to the recent rains and flooding, nothing had been able to leave for several days. There may be no space available for her tomorrow, but he would secure her passage on the first one with a vacant seat. He assured her that she was welcomed to stay with them as long as she needed.

  The conversation soon turned to other things. The Ketterlings were more than eager to express their admiration for Mr. Darcy and how he opened up Pemberley to those families who were stranded and whose homes were threatened by flooding water. With each word of praise they uttered for him, Elizabeth felt a greater sense of loss. She returned to her room early, hoping sleep would come and relieve her of her anguish.

  ***

  Elizabeth tossed and turned throughout the night, granting her with very little sleep. While she lay awake in her bed, her thoughts presented her with every conceivable outcome of Lydia’s actions, most of which were injurious to all. The few times she did fall asleep, her dreams tormented her with images of Mr. Darcy in all his warranted anger. His dark eyes flashed before her, speaking volumes more than any words could. While he said nothing, his tall, commanding figure issued her orders to leave Pemberley, as she lay curled up at his feet sobbing.

  Elizabeth wakened early, even more distressed than the previous day. The passing of one night did nothing to ease her misery, fears, and pain. She hoped that Lydia had already been found and perhaps Jane had sent off another missive alerting her to a respectable resolution. She hoped whatever the outcome, it would somehow appease Mr. Darcy as far as Wickham was concerned. The pain within, however, reaffirmed to her that no resolution would suffice.

  She crawled out of bed and walked to her window. As she peered out, she saw the bright colours of the eastern sky announcing the sun’s arrival. Her heart skipped a beat as she considered that she ought to be out watching the sunrise with Mr. Darcy. She wondered if he had indeed taken a walk and what he was thinking as he watched the myriad of colours paint the sky.

  Tears filled her eyes as she felt her heart truly breaking. How she wished that she had not received such encouragement from Mr. Darcy this past week. How much better it would have been if she had received his censure for the way she had refused him. How much easier it would have been to leave Pemberley if she had not come to love him and feel within the depths of her heart that he was the only man she could ever conceive of marrying.

  Her breath caught as she recalled her words to him that fateful day, that he was the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry. Her eyes filled with tears.

  Elizabeth remained in her room until she heard the sounds of others moving about the household. Once she was assured people in the household were stirring, she dressed and walked out. She found Mrs. Ketterling in the sitting room drinking tea.

  “Good morning, Miss Bennet,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes,” she lied. “I was most comfortable.”

  “Good. Would you like some tea?”

  “I would like that very much.”

  Mrs. Ketterling had her maid bring out a cup of tea for Elizabeth. She took it from her, wrapped her fingers about the warm cup, took a sip, and closed her eyes for a brief moment. Behind her closed lids, she saw Darcy’s eyes flash at her again. She opened her eyes quickly, looking away from Mrs. Ke
tterling, fearing she might see the distress etched on her face.

  Fortunately for Elizabeth, Mrs. Ketterling was looking down at a sampler she was embroidering. Elizabeth breathed in slowly as she sipped the calming tea, hoping it would still her heart and diminish her anguish.

  Breakfast was served shortly after Mr. Ketterling joined them. Elizabeth was fairly certain they perceived her lingering grief, for they ate in relative silence. She was grateful that they did not press her with unwanted conversation.

  Once they had finished, Mr. Ketterling announced that he would be leaving shortly to see what he could find to ensure a prompt, safe passage to London. He apologized for not having the means himself to provide for her journey.

  Once he left, Elizabeth found it difficult to sit calmly. She was eager to be gone, to return to her family. She walked several times to the window and gazed out, wishing to fill her mind with anything but that which pressed heavily upon her.

  Mrs. Ketterling studied her furtively, raising her eyes occasionally from her needlework. At length, she lifted her face to her and smiled. “It appears to be a very pleasant morning, Miss Bennet. Would you care to join me in a walk about the neighbourhood?”

  Elizabeth turned and her face lit up. “I would enjoy that very much,” she said.

  They each took a light shawl with them as the cool morning air had not yet fully yielded to the warmth of the rising sun. They walked in silence for a while, greeting the occasional neighbour they met, and Mrs. Ketterling only speaking when Elizabeth spoke to her first.

  Once Elizabeth appeared to be more inclined to talk, Mrs. Ketterling asked her about Pemberley… and Mr. Darcy.

  “Miss Bennet, I know your visit to Pemberley was cut short, but did you enjoy the time spent there? Was Mr. Darcy as accommodating to everyone as he was to us that day we came to fetch you?”

  Elizabeth swallowed, her mouth going dry at merely the mention of his name. Now, as she contemplated how to answer Mrs. Ketterling’s questions, all her feelings—which she had been trying to bury—rose and threatened to overwhelm her.