Sorrow and Second Chances

by E Bradshaw

  Darcy sighed heavily; this was the problem with telling people the truth, he inwardly decided – it meant that he had to open up and reveal far more than he wanted to. “If you must know, I asked her to marry me once before – but I was soundly rejected,” he explained somewhat tersely. “I do not wish to go into all the details right now; that will have to wait until another time when we are alone and I have drunk too much strong drink to be prudent. But please believe me when I tell you that my intentions towards Miss Elizabeth are nothing but honourable and that I do intend on asking for her hand as soon as I can.”

  Although Charles had looked utterly shocked at Darcy’s disclosure, his face immediately lit up with a bright smile on hearing the rest. “Well, that’s absolutely wonderful, Darcy!” he exclaimed.

  In fact, his voice was so loud that he attracted the attention of several servants who looked up from their tasks to glance across the garden at the two of them. Darcy shot his friend a fierce glower; there was nothing he disliked so much as indiscretion, and his friend was immediately contrite.

  “I’m sorry,” Charles murmured in a quieter tone, “but I’m just so happy to hear your news!”

  “Do not get ahead of yourself too soon,” muttered Darcy in response; “I have not even asked her yet.”

  “No, but you must – and soon,” insisted Charles with a happy expression.

  Darcy rolled his eyes to himself at his friend’s predictable enthusiasm. “I have trusted you with this secret, Charles, and I expect you to keep it to yourself,” he warned. “I do not wish to see you grinning like a fool whenever we are in company with the ladies.”

  “No, of course not,” grinned his friend with an ecstatic expression. “I assure you that I can be very discreet and altogether serious when I need to be.”

  “You are not filling me with a great deal of confidence with that ridiculous smile pasted across your face,” commented Darcy dryly, as he began walking once again in the direction of the greenhouses.

  *****

  Finally, the hour drew near for the harvest celebration to begin, and so after washing and redressing, Darcy returned downstairs to await his guests in the front hallway. First down the stairs came Kitty and Lydia, giggling together with excitement and looking very pretty in their maroon and violet gowns. It was the first time in months that Darcy had seen the girls wearing anything other than their severe black mourning dresses, and thus he guessed that it must be the first occasion when they had worn anything to denote half-mourning ever since their mother had died.[4] When he complimented them on their appearance, both girls blushed, but they thanked him sweetly and seemed pleased by his attention.

  Next came Mary, dressed in a demure gown of dark grey, and Darcy realised then that all the Bennet sisters must have decided to begin wearing half-mourning. He knew that Mary was always the most reserved of the sisters, and that she out of all of them cared most about behaving with all due decorum and modesty, and thus he knew that she wouldn’t have agreed to a change in their appearance unless she thought it was the proper thing to do. He found himself wondering then with a great deal of anticipation what Elizabeth would be wearing as he stood and spoke to her younger sisters – and he suddenly felt very hopeful about the celebrations ahead. Somehow, the change to half-mourning seemed significant to him; it almost seemed as though the sisters had finally decided to begin living once again instead of being permanently frozen in their state of unrelenting grief. He just hoped that it might also mean that Elizabeth might feel ready to consider a future with him.

  Finally, Elizabeth and Jane appeared at the top of the stairs, arm in arm with their father – and Darcy suddenly found himself feeling short of breath and having to inwardly remind himself not to stare. Jane looked lovely, as she always did, in a gown of soft coloured grey, but it was Elizabeth who unavoidably drew his attention. She was dressed in a flattering shade of lavender, edged with black lace, and she looked utterly beautiful. Darcy had found it easy to compliment Elizabeth’s younger sisters, but he was rendered completely mute by her appearance. Nevertheless, he was certain that his expression must have given him away, for it did not escape his notice that Mr Bennet gifted him with a rather sardonic look as he advanced down the stairs with his daughters.

  Fortunately for Darcy, however, the sisters created enough chatter between them that his silence did not seem remarkable; and the arrival of his sister, along with Mr and Mrs Hurst and Charles, shortly afterwards added yet more chatter to their company and enabled Darcy to cover his awkward feelings. Indeed, he was content to stand to one side and watch his guests and his sister as they talked excitedly together about the festivities ahead – though inevitably he found himself absorbed in watching Elizabeth most of all. In fact, it was for this reason that he initially missed the approach of Miss Bingley. Predictably, she was the last of his guests to arrive downstairs, and as usual she used the opportunity to draw attention to herself – though it was only when she uttered a pointed cough that Darcy actually realised that she was approaching. He turned in time to see her pouting angrily at his inattention, though he saw that her expression immediately morphed to a fawning simper once she had successfully gained his notice.

  Darcy had to resist the temptation to roll his eyes at her appearance, for as impossible as he might have believed it to be, Caroline Bingley had once again surpassed herself with the utter gaudiness of her outfit. She looked as though she had dressed for an evening out at the Royal Theatre, rather than for a simple harvest festival in the country. From head to toe she was swathed in a particularly garish shade of orange, including a turban with feathers (which Darcy secretly considered to look quite ridiculous), along with a silk dress and a long train to match. In every way conceivable the outfit seemed ill-judged; Darcy was sure that her long train would inadvertently get trampled underfoot, and he felt that the gown clung far too tightly to her body to be considered entirely proper. She didn’t seem to comprehend that whilst there were some fashions that would be considered as acceptable and even stylish in Town, the same dresses would in comparison be seen as verging on indecent when judged against more simple country tastes. Indeed, he could only hope that his more religiously-disposed tenants would not be inclined to make any disparaging comments amongst themselves when they spied what Miss Bingley was wearing.

  Unfortunately, however, Caroline Bingley had never been a person to doubt her own sense of fashion, and it was quite clear from her smug expression that she considered her outfit to be a resounding success. Indeed, she seemed to take the stunned silence of the whole company as further proof of her triumph, though to Darcy’s mind only Mrs Hurst actually seemed to like the outfit. Everyone was far too polite to say anything, of course, though Darcy could not fail to notice Charles’ bulging eyes and disapproving frown when he saw his sister dressed as she was.

  However, Miss Bingley wasn’t looking at her brother, but was instead staring straight ahead at Darcy with a look that was almost predatory. Evidently convinced as she was of her own allure, she swayed her hips with an exaggerated swing and sent Darcy a secretive smile as she descended the last few stairs – though the effect upon Darcy was quite the opposite to what he imagined she had expected it to be. Secretly he couldn’t help but compare her brazen conduct to the sweet, shy smile that Elizabeth had previously sent him when she had likewise descended the stairs – nor prevent himself from thinking how awful it would be to be tied to such a woman for life. Indeed, with such a thought in mind, Darcy was determined not to allow Miss Bingley any opportunity whatsoever to get too close to him or to make any demands for his assistance, and so instead, he quickly stepped towards Elizabeth and Mary and offered them his arms so that he might escort them to the carriages outside.

  Nevertheless, it was clear to Darcy from the scowl which immediately overspread Miss Bingley’s face that she was offended by his neglect, just as he likewise recognised that she was outraged to see his marked attention towards Elizabeth. Consequently, she was not as contr
olled as she might typically be when in his presence, and thus she spoke with far more venom than was wise as the three of them passed her by.

  “I see that you have finally managed to find something a little better than that awful dowdy gown you were wearing before, Miss Eliza,” she commented scornfully; “though it is so plain that one might almost think you were the daughter of one of Mr Darcy’s tenants!”

  Darcy knew that he should probably ignore Miss Bingley’s spiteful remark and keep walking onwards, but he saw the hurt look on Elizabeth’s face and thus he simply couldn’t keep his temper in check. He felt extremely protective of her and he hated to see her in distress, and so he did not care a jot about being discreet over his feelings for her any longer. Consequently, he paused mid-step and gifted Miss Bingley with a severe look of disapproval. “On the contrary, Miss Bingley, no one who saw Miss Elizabeth could mistake her as being anything other than a lady,” he contradicted her in a cold tone. “And I shall be honoured to have her accompany me today.”

  He gave neither Miss Bingley nor anyone else any time to respond to his comment, and instead he marched on, sweeping Elizabeth and Mary out with him towards the carriages outside. His temper still raged within him and he knew he could have said so much more, but he tried instead to force himself to calmness. Certainly, he felt too angry for the moment to trust himself to speak with any sort of composure – though to his surprise, he felt a gentle pressure on his arm which prompted him to look down, and he beheld Elizabeth smiling up at him. He could not understand how she could remain so calm after being insulted in such a fashion, but all of a sudden, he felt his tension melting away as he looked at her and thus he could not help but return her wry smile.

  “Please pay no heed to Miss Bingley’s spite,” he murmured softly; “you could wear sack cloth and still outshine all other women.”

  Though Elizabeth blushed at his heartfelt compliment, it was clear that she wished to keep their conversation as light-hearted as possible, for she responded with a joke. “Thank you, sir, but my poor sister might feel rather slighted by your compliment!”

  Belatedly Darcy realised that his comment might have sounded rather ungallant, and though he knew that Elizabeth was teasing him, he nevertheless turned to Mary and apologised. “I beg your pardon, Miss Mary,” he said with an apologetic look; “I did not mean to include you or any of your sisters in that assessment. You all look very pretty in your new dresses.”

  Mary seemed unused to receiving compliments, and like her sister had done before, she blushed at his remark. “Thank you, sir,” she replied in a self-conscious tone, as she focussed her gaze on the ground. “I was unsure at first as to whether it was too soon to put away our black gowns, but my sisters persuaded me that it was time, and I believe on reflection that they were right.”

  “Mama would have wanted us to look nice and to enjoy ourselves,” murmured Elizabeth to her sister. “And you know how she always hated black.”

  “I am truly sorry that she is not here with us,” responded Darcy gently. “I feel sure that your mother would have enjoyed herself if she had been here with us, and especially at the celebrations later today.”

  “You are right about that,” smiled Elizabeth fondly. “Our mother loved nothing better than a party!”

  They had reached the assembled carriages which were waiting to take them onto the local parish church for the harvest thanksgiving service, and so without any further ado, Darcy assisted both young ladies in. He turned in time to see Kitty, Lydia and Georgiana approaching; they were talking animatedly together and he smiled to see how well they were getting on with one another. One by one, he assisted them all into the next carriage along, and soon afterwards the rest of their party arrived and boarded. Darcy and Mr Bennet joined Elizabeth and Mary in the first carriage, whilst Jane and Charles had joined the three girls, leaving Miss Bingley to seethe in the third carriage with only her sister and brother-in-law for company.

  Chapter 12

  Darcy sat back in his chair, contentedly watching his tenants and servants as they enjoyed themselves at the harvest dance. The evening had grown late and the atmosphere had grown steadily more relaxed as more and more of their home brewed cider and ale had been consumed. Darcy did not approve of excessive drunkenness, but nevertheless, he was glad to see the people who served him so well enjoying themselves, for he felt that they deserved a reward for all their hard work and loyalty. Indeed, he felt that such events were an integral part of bonding his people to him; he believed that traditions such as this one helped to create good relations between his family and the many people who worked and served under him – and in turn, helped to demonstrate how much he valued them all.

  He knew that such rural traditions, of giving thanks for the harvest and celebrating together as a community, were so old that their roots actually originated from the ancient times of Britain when the pagan gods had been worshipped rather than the Christian.[5] Though some parts of the traditions had undoubtedly changed over time, their festivities that day had still started in the same way as the Darcy family traditions had dictated for many generations, with a service of thanksgiving in their parish church. After the service, everyone had gathered back upon the grounds at Pemberley to begin the much-anticipated feast, and Darcy had given a speech of thanks to his staff and tenants as he did every year – and as his father had done before him. He was pleased to see that the celebrations had been a resounding success so far; everybody had been in good spirits – and with the exception of Miss Bingley and Mr and Mrs Hurst – every person there had mixed and socialised quite amicably.

  Although the harvest festival had been much like any other that they had held in their long history at Pemberley, this year the celebration had somehow felt far more momentous to Darcy. He knew without doubt that it was Elizabeth’s presence by his side that made all the difference; it felt so natural to have her there with him that he found himself looking forward to the time when he might always have her by his side as his wife. Indeed, he knew that his marked attention towards Elizabeth had not escaped the notice of anyone there at the celebration. He had seen his tenants and servants nudging one another and indicating him and Elizabeth as they spoke together in hushed conversations – though for once, he did not mind in the least that his private life was under scrutiny.

  In truth, he knew that he had hardly been discreet that day in his attentions towards Elizabeth; he had made sure that she had been by his side all day, and he had deliberately escorted her to the seat next to his at the head table for the feast. His sister had taken the place on his other side, as she had every year, and the rest of his guests had taken their seats on either side of them – though Darcy had not missed the disgusted expression on Miss Bingley’s face when she had seen where he had put Elizabeth. Nevertheless, he had been too happy to care about Miss Bingley’s disapproval and far too carefree to feel offended. That was the power of Elizabeth’s influence over him, he decided; she made him feel complete, and he could feel all his worries melt away into nothingness whenever she smiled at him. In return, he wanted nothing more than to make Elizabeth happy; to protect her and to see her smile – and thus he had no intention of allowing Miss Bingley to insult her again as she had earlier that day.

  They had feasted together as the afternoon light had gradually dwindled into dusk – and then, after the feast had been consumed, Darcy had led the first dance with Elizabeth as his partner. Elizabeth’s sisters and Charles had soon joined in, though Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had looked utterly appalled to see the Master of Pemberley dancing in the same line as his tenants and servants. The two of them had left with Mr Hurst to retire indoors soon afterwards, with their disgust written clear upon their faces, though Darcy had been only too glad to see them go. He could have told them that tradition at Pemberley had always dictated that the Master began the celebrations by leading the first dance, but that propriety meant that he did not continue with any further dances afterwards, and instead he always
left the dancing to be enjoyed by his tenants and servants whilst he continued to circulate and speak with his guests. However, he did not bother to give such an explanation to Miss Bingley and her sister, sensing that the other ladies of the party would relax and enjoy themselves much more without their officious presence.

  Nevertheless, Darcy could not help but reflect to himself that Miss Bingley’s scorn towards his people and the traditions of Pemberley demonstrated more emphatically than anything else which he had already discovered about her that she would never have been a suitable mistress to his estate. In contrast, Elizabeth had seemed delighted to learn all about Pemberley and its traditions; she had listened with interest to his stories and his explanations about the local customs in Derbyshire, and in exchange she had told him more about the tenants who lived upon her father’s estate. It was clear to Darcy that she had always taken an interest in the people who lived upon the Longbourn estate, and that she had long assisted her father with his business affairs. Indeed, it had been somewhat of a surprise for him to discover that Elizabeth knew so much about estate management, since it was unusual for women of her station to take an interest in such matters.

  However, when he had ventured to say so, Elizabeth had simply given him one of her enigmatic smiles. “You must remember, sir, that my father has no son,” she had replied. “He had to teach someone about his estate – and since I proved to be so utterly incapable of sitting still for long periods of time and doing embroidery tasks, as a proper young lady should, my poor mother often grew exasperated with me. Perhaps that is why my father had no choice but to take me out and about with him whenever he made his rounds of the estate.”

  Darcy smiled at her predictable and amusing self-depreciation, but knowing her talents as he did, he would not allow her to have the final word on the subject. “That is nonsense, Miss Bennet, and you know it,” he declared. “I have long known that you are too modest about your own talents. I suspect that your father invited you out as he did because you, out of all of his daughters, are most like him. He has an astute mind and such a singular way of putting things that people never really know whether he is in earnest, or whether he is instead enjoying his own private joke at someone else’s expense!”