by Emma Crawley
“Lizzy, if something is distressing you, I hope you will speak with me. I am your friend, am I not?” she asked in a low voice.
I patted her hand. “Undoubtedly. Please, do not worry. I am exhausted. It is nothing that… I will be well again soon.”
Charlotte watched me, but she relented with a sigh. “Well, if you say so. But I hope you will come to me if you wish to speak to me.”
I nodded and gave her a reassuring smile then turned to look outside the carriage windows though I could see nothing in the dark. I could only hope Lady Catherine was so excited to have her nephews stay with her that she would demand their presence at Rosings until the gentlemen left. I could not bear the thought of having to refuse Mr Darcy a second time. Even I had never thought he would have the arrogance to believe he could change a woman’s mind so easily. I would not allow him to disrupt my time with Charlotte anymore than he already had. If he could not accept the fact that I did not wish to marry him and that nothing would change my mind about that, then it would not matter how many times I refused him. I never thought a man as intelligent as Mr Darcy would be another Mr Collins, unable to believe a woman could decline him. Why on earth were men like Mr Collins and Mr Darcy so arrogant? I kept my eyes away from Rosings, determined not to look back and see what Mr Darcy was doing.
But, as the carriage rolled down the driveway, I could not resist looking behind me. Mr Darcy stood on the steps watching the carriage. Lady Catherine and Colonel Fitzwilliam had turned to the house, and he remained alone, a lonely figure in the candlelight. Whatever he was thinking, I could not tell. But I felt a pang as I thought I had never seen such distress on anyone’s face before. Had I touched him so much? I turned my head away and did not look again until we were beyond the park palings.
As soon as we reached the lodge, I hurried to my room, making an excuse to Charlotte that I would have an early night and sleep as long as required the next morning. Charlotte was concerned and agreed at once. She told me to sleep as late as I needed the following morning and assured me that she could certainly spare me.
“I am certain we will not be summoned to Lady Catherine’s presence while her nephews remain here,” she said with a smile. She patted my hand. “Take all the rest you need, my dear.”
I looked at her, my oldest friend in the world apart from Jane, and for a moment, I longed to lay my head on her shoulder and pour everything out to her. Charlotte was so intelligent and sensible she would surely understand.
But, she would be aghast I had rejected a man such as Mr Darcy. She had married Mr Collins knowing he was one of the most foolish men in existence and caring nothing for him. Charlotte was as pragmatic as I was romantic. She would not see a reason why my lack of regard for Mr Darcy should prevent me from accepting him as my husband.
No, dear as Charlotte was to me, I could not speak with her. But I would be with Jane again in London by the end of the week. I consoled myself then I would confide in her and that she would understand everything. On impulse, I embraced Charlotte and kissed her on the cheek.
“Please do not worry about me. I am having a wonderful time with you. I will be all right again in the morning.”
4
Despite Charlotte's insistence that I should sleep as late as I needed, I slept little that night. My mind swirled with images of Mr Darcy's face and his urgency to talk to me. Colonel Fitzwilliam's expression also came to me, and I wondered what he had been thinking. He looked as distressed as Mr Darcy. Had Mr Darcy spoken to him about what had passed between us? Was that why he looked so grave and unhappy? Many men believed the most incomprehensible thing in the world was a woman who rejected a man's offer of marriage. I hoped Colonel Fitzwilliam was not one of those men.
Well, if he were, he would have to manage his unhappiness in his way. No one would ever decide who I married apart from me alone. I would never give myself away to satisfy someone as unconnected with me as Colonel Fitzwilliam, no matter how much I had enjoyed the man's company in the previous days.
As the light broke out through my bedroom window, I thought about the letter once again — in particular, the part relevant to Mr Wickham. I could not believe he had deceived me so thoroughly. How could I have been so fooled by that man? I had allowed his marked preference for me to fill my head with vanity.
Well, thank goodness he would leave Hertfordshire soon. My mother had mentioned in her letter that the militia was to move to Brighton for the summer. My two youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, were distraught at the loss of their favourites, but I rejoiced. Ever since the militia had settled in Meryton, there had been nothing but romance and soldiers in their heads. The sooner they left, and took Mr Wickham and his deceitful ways with them, the sooner we could all return to rational conversation.
A man like Mr Wickham would cause harm wherever he went. Poor Miss Darcy. I could hardly believe Mr Wickham could be so cruel as to induce her to marry a man who would only ever use her for her fortune. The young lady was only fifteen years old, and Wickham had spoken of her as proud and arrogant as Mr Darcy.
I frowned as I try to recall Mr Darcy's account of how he found them. I have been fighting the urge to reread the letter yesterday, and I could not resist any longer. The sun was high in the sky now, so I would not need to light a candle. I jumped out of bed and went to the chair where I left my gown from the day before. I had shoved the letter into my pocket when Mr Collins had come upon me in the woods. I rummaged through the pockets of the frock now, but to my dismay, there was no sign of the letter. I turned the dress upside down and shook it and took apart every section, desperate to find that piece of paper.
There was nothing there.
My heart pounding, I felt about the chair where I had thrown the frock. I pulled it away from the wall and looked all around it and then underneath it. I returned to my bed and flung all the blankets and covers apart as I searched.
There was no sign of the letter.
I looked around the room and pulled open the closet. It had to be here somewhere. It could not have just disappeared.
My hands shook as I stood in the middle of the room, feeling defeated. If anyone else found that letter, if someone like Mr Collins were to come upon it, it would be a disaster. It would be bad enough for them to wonder why an unmarried man had written to an unmarried woman who was not a close relative, and that was without reading the contents of the letter that were for my eyes alone. If anyone read it, they would know Mr Darcy had proposed to me. They would know everything that happened between Mr Wickham and Georgiana Darcy and between Mr Bingley and Jane. My stomach churned as I thought about it. I imagined Mr Collins reading the letter and deciding it was his duty to take it to Lady Catherine. My hand shook as I hurried to dress as simply as I could, not wanting to wait for the maid to help me.
I hurried down the stairs, scanning every place I have passed the day before, looking around frantically. With trembling fingers, I rummaged through the pile of notes on the table in the main passage, hoping someone had found it and only saw my name on it and then returned to the collection of letters from Jane that rested there.
No, there was nothing. Feeling sickened, I forced myself to enter the breakfast room. Charlotte and Mr Collins were already there.
"Did you sleep well, Cousin?" asked Mr Collins as I took a seat at the end of the table.
I raised my head to look at him suspiciously. Did I imagine it, or did he look rather pleased with himself? He had never asked me how I slept before, had he? I could not recall.
I nodded. "Yes, thank you," I lied. "It was exactly what I needed."
"And, shall you walk in the woods again today?"
I looked at him cautiously. Why was he smiling? What did that look mean? Had he found the letter after all and wished to toy with me?
No, I could not believe that. First, that would take more intelligence than a man like Mr Collins possessed. Second, I thought if he found a letter, he would show no other expression but sanctimonious outrage.
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Yet, how well did I know the man? There was every chance he delighted in the opportunity to be of service to Lady Catherine, as he would see it. Perhaps he planned to rush over there as soon as he finished his breakfast.
"I had not thought about it, sir. It is a pleasant morning, so perhaps I might." I raised my chin to look at him defiantly. If he hoped to intimidate me, he would be disappointed.
Mr Collins dropped his eyes to his plate. Charlotte smiled at me.
I know your walks do you a great deal of good, Lizzy. Do not rush back. Take as long as you need."
I gave Charlotte a grateful smile. Her look was sympathetic, and I was gripped with another fear that perhaps she looked so concerned because Mr Collins had told her about the letter.
No, if I kept thinking about it, I would go mad. I rose from my chair.
"Excuse me," I said as they both looked at me in surprise. "I find I have little appetite for breakfast this morning. I think I will go for my walk now."
Mr Collins protested, but Charlotte stopped him.
"Of course, if you feel like that is what you need, my dear."
I threw Charlotte a grateful smile and hurried from the house.
I traced the steps I had taken the previous day as best I could. When I began my walk yesterday, my mind had been in turmoil. Almost as much as it was now. Did I take this path or the other one? I had not taken my usual walk, because I recollected that Mr Darcy had sometimes found me there.
I was almost sure I went that way. Yes, that lane was familiar. I remembered stopping to admire that clump of flowers right there. I kept my eyes fixed to the path as I searched desperately for any sign of the letter. I moved as fast as I could and even retraced my steps a few times. I went to the grove where Mr Darcy had given me the wretched thing, and where I had stuffed it away when Mr Collins had come upon me.
Perhaps I had not stuffed it into my pocket after all. If so, it should still be there. I was sure few people valued the walk apart from myself. But what would I know about that? There was no way to guarantee that no one visited this place apart for me.
I ran into the grove and looked around in dismay. There was no letter there — not even a page. There was nothing to say I had ever been there.
Feeling exhausted by everything that had happened, I sank onto a nearby log and buried my face in my hands. Where on earth was that letter? I would never be secure until I knew where it was. If someone found it, who knew what trouble it would cause? It could ruin my reputation, not to mention Mr and Miss Darcy's.
Mr Darcy!
I raised my head and looked towards Rosings park where that gentleman no doubt sat in comfort right then.
He caused all this. He should have kept his feelings to himself, especially if his apparent love for me caused him such turmoil. What did he mean by putting his explanation in a letter? He might have spoken to me. Yes, I would have been reluctant to hear him, but he might have insisted.
Yet he put everything down on paper where anyone might find it. This was supposed to be a pleasant visit so I could enjoy my time with Charlotte, and instead, I had spent the last few days feeling distressed and worried.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I knew my anger towards Mr Darcy was just a convenient way to distract me from my feelings of anger at myself for losing that letter. How could I have done something so stupid? I should have guarded it with my life.
No, I should have burned it. I should have torn it into a thousand pieces and found somewhere to bury it, where no one else could find it and read it. But my desire to read the letter, again and again, won me over, and now, I had no idea where it was or if it was in another person's hands. I looked helplessly around the grove, finding none of the peace I usually took from it.
No, it was no good. I would need to return to Hunsford Lodge and hope I had misplaced the letter somewhere. Perhaps even now I might find it in my bedroom in a place I had not considered looking.
Feeling defeated, I retraced my steps back to Hunsford Lodge, keeping my eyes fixed to the ground, hoping against hope I would still see that letter peeking from behind a tuft of grass or some undergrowth.
I walked into the house, already planning to look as cheerful as possible if Charlotte were to see me. Charlotte came down the passage towards me, her face lined with worry.
"Lizzy…" she began.
I patted her hand. "I am well, Charlotte. The walk has done me much good."
"No, Lizzy…" She sighed. She nodded towards the parlour door. "Mr Darcy is here to see you. He says he needs to speak with you urgently."
I stared at Charlotte in alarm. "Mr Darcy, here? Mr Darcy wishes to speak with me?"
Charlotte nodded. "He came not long after you left. Thankfully, my husband has left to visit Lady Catherine. I do not know what is happening, Lizzy, but I suspect his reasons for being here and you being out of spirits over the past few days are connected somehow. And if that is the case, I hope whatever you discuss will soon put the matter to rest. Has there… Has something happened between you?"
I looked at her blankly. My mind was so tired I could not think of anything to tell her. I shook my head, and she sighed. She nodded towards the door again. I straightened my shoulders and prepared myself to see him.
5
Mr Darcy rose at once when I entered the room. He clenched his hat in his hand, and he passed it between his fingers in great agitation. My heart sank. I prayed he was not about to propose again. If he did, and I rejected him for a second time, along with Charlotte being present, it would make the matter even more distressing than it had been the other day.
“Miss Bennet,” he said. His voice cracked slightly. I had never seen him look so grave and severe.
I stood near the door, declining to move any further into the room. I made no move to remove my spencer or bonnet, trying to convey to him I did not wish this conversation to be of long duration.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Mr Darcy?” I said. I kept my voice as flat and uninviting as I could. I do not wish to give him any indication that the letter — that cursed, vanishing letter — had given me any change of heart.
Mr Darcy blanched slightly at my tone.
“I tried to speak with you last night, but you evaded me.”
As I made to speak, Mr Darcy winced and shook his head. “Forgive me. I cannot blame you for behaving as you did. No doubt you wish to avoid any… any repetition of what passed between us the other night.”
I glanced towards the door, terrified Charlotte might hear his words. Yet I could not deny what Mr Darcy had said. That was what I had feared the most.
“I can not imagine what you might have to say that is so urgent.”
“No, I suppose you cannot.” Mr Darcy swallowed. It occurred to me that I had never seen him look so awkward in all our acquaintance. I was sure this was the only time the gentleman had ever felt such sensations himself, and he seems ill-equipped to know how to handle them.
“Mr Darcy, if you wish to see me to know what I thought after reading your letter, I can assure you that…”
“Yes, the letter.”
My hands clenched by my side. Where on earth was that letter? Mr Darcy would be furious with me if he knew I had misplaced it.
“Miss Bennet, when did you last see the letter?”
I hesitated and looked at him sharply. “What are you… What on earth do you mean?”
“When did you last have the letter?”
My heart sank. So, he knew I had misplaced it.
But how did he know? There was only one reason he would ask that question. And the only reason he could know I had lost the letter was if he had been the one who found it. Perhaps I had lost it in the grove yesterday. Maybe he returned to the woods after giving me some time to read it and gather my thoughts. Perhaps he had come across the letter lying there on the grass, and he had it in his safekeeping. I sighed with relief. Thank God. We were safe.
“Where did you find it?” I demanded. “I
searched the house this morning, and then I ran back through the woods trying to see where I had lost it. I have been out of my mind with worry. I was so terrified someone else might have come across it. You know what you wrote. Can you imagine the scandal that would have come if the wrong person had found it?” I paused as another thought struck me. “Is that why you were so eager to speak with me last night? To tell me you have the letter?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, I shook my head and smiled on my stupidity. All along, Mr Darcy had tried to tell me he had the letter in his safekeeping, and all along I had assumed he wanted to speak with me for another purpose, while I searched high and low looking for the object he had in his possession. I had abused Mr Darcy for his arrogance, and yet I allowed my vanity cause me hours of worry for nothing.
I smiled. “Please forgive my carelessness. Mr Collins happened upon me rather suddenly while I was reading it. I was too hasty about hiding it. I must have allowed it to fall from my pocket. Thank goodness you were the one to discover it.”
Relief ran through me, and I finally ventured further into the room to sink into the chair. Now I knew the reason for Mr Darcy’s visit, I felt less fearful of it. There would be no renewal of his addresses. I felt safer in his presence and more inclined to listen to him and ask him questions that the letter had raised in me.
But Mr Darcy did not look so relieved. He stood in one spot his hands clenched by his side. His jaw was tight. Fear washed over me. I swallowed and stared up at him, afraid of what he might say.
“Would you take a seat, sir? Unless you plan to leave right away. I apologise for my carelessness with the letter, but as you have it, there is no harm done.”
“No harm done…” Mr Darcy raised his hand and rubbed his jaw then around the back of his neck as he paced back and forth before me. “No harm done, you say?”
