Even after my brief discourse with Mr. Bennet, I found myself loath to quit Longbourn altogether and tarried in the garden for some time. The sound of blackbirds drew my gaze to their nest, and, recalling your expressed fondness for their chatter, I realized that the niche of their chamber was the window to your own. When you happened upon me, I had just been appreciating the aroma of apple blossoms and lavender concentrated in that small garden, and wondering by what extraordinary means their fragrance had followed you the fifty miles to Kent.
It is not my intention to pain or embarrass you by providing this faithful account of my most intimate feelings and actions. However, as you some days ago declared yourself incapable of deceiving me, I seem to have likewise lost the ability to disguise my emotions from you. I wish only to impart how my estimation of you multiplied during that short hour at Longbourn, and to express my regret for remaining so untouched on previous visits to that place. Have no fear, however, that the liberty I take in expressing such sentiments will ever escape the margins of these pages.
I cannot forget your words to me that evening at the parsonage, when you expressed such utter surprise at my declarations. ‘I felt fortunate enough to call you friend, without hopes of a deeper attachment,’ you said. In the happy event that Mr. Bingley has cause to invite me to Netherfield some months hence (and I imagine you know as well as I that such cause is a near certainty), I would not wish you to be ill at ease, or fear any renewal of undesirable attentions from my quarter. When next we meet, it is I who should feel fortunate to be greeted as a friend, without hopes of a deeper attachment.
I will only add, God bless you.
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Chapter Ten
Longbourn
“Oh, Jane—how lovely!” Elizabeth admired the gold and sapphire ring cradled in Jane’s palm and noted with pleasure how both jewel and owner sparkled, even in the dim candlelight of the sisters’ bedchamber.
“I shall be so relieved when Mr. Bingley has spoken to Papa and I can wear it always,” Jane said, slipping the ring onto her finger. “Carrying it knotted in my handkerchief has given me such anxiety, Lizzy—you would think I am succumbing to Mama’s nervous condition! I cannot help checking a dozen times an hour to make certain it has not disappeared.”
Elizabeth smiled and squeezed her sister’s bejeweled hand. “You owe me a great debt, Jane, and I have not forgotten it. I must hear all details of this swift courtship, and most especially Mr. Bingley’s proposal!”
“Oh, but where shall I begin?”
“Begin with the day you wrote me the letter, for that is the last proper report I have had of the matter.”
“Yes, my letter. It seems so long ago now—and to think, it has been less than two weeks! Shortly after I finished my letter to you, Charles—‘Mr. Bingley’ then—called as he had promised. At first, I felt every bit as anxious and hesitant as the day before, but before long we were conversing easily on all manner of topics. In truth, it felt as though we had never been parted.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I daresay you never were. Not at heart.”
“The next evening,” Jane continued with a blush, “Mr. Bingley had invited us all to dine at his townhouse. I need not tell you how I dreaded meeting Miss Bingley again, but she greeted us with perfect civility. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst were also in attendance. I cannot say that the evening was passed in perfect amiability, but I was gratified to find the ladies’ demeanor toward me markedly improved when compared to our last meeting.”
A change no doubt effected by their brother, Elizabeth thought, silently praising Mr. Bingley’s success in checking his sisters’ haughty behavior.
“In fact, Lizzy,” Jane giggled, “there was one moment in the evening I believe you would have enjoyed immensely. Upon our arrival, Mr. Bingley offered to give us a tour of his house. I could see Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst exchanging disapproving glances, but Mr. Bingley was undeterred. It is a lovely house, Lizzy. It is large, but not so grand as to be overwhelming, and the rooms are very fashionably appointed throughout.”
“I imagine Miss Bingley would have it no other way.”
“Indeed. We entered one room toward the back—a breakfast room with large windows overlooking the garden, with lovely flowered wallpaper and more modest furnishings than seen in other parts of the house. Mr. Bingley explained they were pieces brought from his family’s ancestral home in the North. The room was so comfortable and inviting, it reminded me instantly of Longbourn, and I expressed my delight with it rather unrestrainedly. Miss Bingley quickly denounced it as a plain, unpleasant place and declared her intention to remake it into a French-styled salon, as soon as her brother would allow her the funds.”
“And what did Mr. Bingley say?”
Jane smiled. “He said, ‘Caroline, my concern is not your tendency to deplete my accounts, but your determination to bankrupt the soul of this home.’ He went on to deem it his favorite room, praising all the same features I had admired, and he declared that no one would be allowed to alter it in the slightest, so long as he remained master of the house. I wish you could have been there to see the look on her face.”
“Like a cat with a saucer of spoilt cream, I imagine.”
“Very like,” Jane laughed. “She said little to me for the remainder of the evening, but I cannot say I missed her conversation. Charles was so polite and attentive, so anxious to please—we could not give him enough assurances as to our enjoyment of the dishes served or our comfort in his home. It was a truly wonderful evening, and I wished it would never end.”
“Yes, yes, but it did,” Elizabeth prompted impatiently. “And then..?”
“Before we left, he asked if he might call again the next day, and so he did. This time, Miss Bingley accompanied him, for motives which must be hers alone to comprehend.”
“Oh, I can comprehend them easily,” Elizabeth said. “If she could not prevent her brother from seeing you, at least she did not intend to let him out of her sight!”
“You are correct, Lizzy, I am certain. Fortunately, Miss Bingley had not counted on the cleverness of our dear Aunt Gardiner! It was a fine morning, and our aunt suggested taking a turn about the park. Mr. Bingley and I agreed so readily, Miss Bingley could not object. No sooner had we left the house than Aunt Gardiner drew Miss Bingley into close confidence, asking her advice on re-decorating her parlor. With our aunt inquiring so persistently into her opinions on fabrics and wallpapers and draperies, Miss Bingley completely failed to notice when Mr. Bingley and I fell behind.” Jane rose from the bed and began to pace the room slowly.
“Mr. Bingley inquired as to how long I would remain in London, and when I told him I planned to return to Hertfordshire with you only two days later, a strange expression crossed his face. He remained silent for some time. When he finally spoke, it was to remark on his own desire to return to Netherfield shortly. I tried to express in friendly terms that the neighborhood had lamented his absence and would certainly rejoice should he decide to return.” Jane ceased her pacing and buried her face in her hands. In the next moment, however, her gleaming eyes and bashful smile peeked out from behind splayed fingers.
“Oh, Lizzy. I hardly know how to describe what happened next! Mr. Bingley suddenly stopped in the path and began to make the most fervent declarations to me—in the middle of a public park, no less! He told me he loved me, and that he had loved me since we first met last year. He said he could not allow me to return to Longbourn without ascertaining my feelings and knowing whether I might ever be persuaded to accept his hand in marriage. I cannot begin to describe how I felt in that moment—I blushed so deeply my cheeks burned with it, and my hands trembled dreadfully until Charles took them in his own.”
Elizabeth smiled. If Jane only knew how closely she could sympathize with her emotions in that situation!
“I still do not know how I managed the composure to do so, but I found words enough to assure him that my feelings were much the same, and that nothing would make me
happier than to be his wife. And, Lizzy—I never spoke truer words, for ever since that moment, I have known myself to be the happiest creature on God’s earth! To think that such happiness almost slipped through our grasp… I cannot comprehend it. How indebted we are to Mr. Darcy! Without his friendship, we might never have been reunited.”
At this mention of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth could no longer maintain her cheerful expression. Jane noted her change in demeanor and immediately went to her side.
“Lizzy, whatever is the matter?”
“Oh, Jane. I have such a tale to tell you. How I have dearly wished to borrow against your patience and sweet disposition these past weeks! But I fear I cannot unburden my own heart without causing yours some pain.”
“Does what you have to tell me involve Mr. Bingley being secretly engaged to another?”
“No,” Elizabeth said, laughing through her distress.
“Then my heart is perfectly safe,” Jane said. “Whatever you have to tell me, it could not possibly endanger my joy.”
“You know already, of course, that I encountered Mr. Darcy in Kent,” she began slowly. In terms no less animated than those of her sister, but decidedly less ecstatic, Elizabeth recounted the history of their interactions at Rosings. She described his initial cold greeting, the development of their tenuous friendship, and, finally, the astonishing revelations of Colonel Fitzwilliam. In terms as delicate as truth allowed, she acquainted Jane with the details of Mr. Darcy’s role in convincing Mr. Bingley to leave Hertfordshire and concealing Jane’s presence in town. She watched her sister’s expression carefully. Jane grew pale, but remained composed and silent.
The color returned to Jane’s face as Elizabeth described Mr. Darcy’s proposal, and how the sentiments he avowed were as equally shocking to her as his bluntly expressed censure of their family. She described her confusion upon receiving Jane’s news and her most unexpected meeting with Mr. Darcy at Longbourn. She could not bring herself to read his letter aloud, but she summarized the explanations and apologies offered therein.
“So you see, Jane,” she finished wearily, “you may wish to revise your opinion of Mr. Darcy, now that you know the extent of his interference and deceit.”
“Certainly I shall revise my opinion of him, but in more ways than you imply. How shocking to think that he has been in love with you all this time, Lizzy! And to know that you developed such regard and affection for him, but neither suspected the other’s true feelings until the situation was hopelessly mired in misunderstanding!”
“Thank you for such gentle comfort,” Elizabeth sniffed wryly, dabbing at her eyes with Jane’s handkerchief.
“I do not mean to make light of your suffering. It is only that I cannot help but note what close resemblance your unhappy situation bears to my own miserable state a few weeks ago. But recent events have taught me that hope is never in vain, and no situation is beyond repair. Mr. Darcy loves you still. His letter confirms it.”
“It confirms no such thing!” Elizabeth cried. “He explicitly states his wish to be friends and nothing more.”
“He wishes only as much as he dares hope receive. Do you not see, Lizzy, that only respect for your feelings prevents him from fully expressing his true sentiments? With the slightest encouragement from you, I have no doubt that he would renew his addresses.”
“His respect for my feelings? I hardly understand them, myself! When I learned of his guilt in inflicting such misery upon you, I was consumed with anger. Then I received his letter. In it, he credibly defends the misunderstanding at the root of his interference, and his quick actions to remedy the mistake speak well on his behalf. I cannot deny that reading it has somewhat appeased my resentment. Still, he acted so wrongly and with such arrogant disregard for your feelings. I do not know that I can ever forgive him!”
“But you must forgive him, Lizzy, for I have done so already.”
“Jane, you are too good! The happiness you have found with Mr. Bingley is truly the just result of your angelic disposition. If only you could teach me how it is done, to forgive so freely and easily, without harboring the slightest trace of rancor—but I know such sweetness can never be learnt.”
“Then put aside sweetness and let your reason guide your heart. You yourself have stated that Mr. Darcy’s reasons for interfering were credible. That Mama’s behavior should give such an appearance of scheming comes as no surprise. Should we be amazed, then, that her brazen conduct left a stronger impression on Mr. Darcy than our own attempts to maintain propriety? He did not wish to see his friend unhappily matched; for my part, I am glad that Charles has a friend so concerned for his contentment. I have already forgiven Miss Bingley for her part in our separation. She is to be my sister, and we must learn to accept one another. How much easier, then, to forgive Mr. Darcy with his more honorable motives?”
“Miss Bingley is not to be my sister, fortunately, and I therefore feel no obligation to forgive her. At least her duplicitous behavior proceeds logically from her character. Such is not the case with Mr. Darcy, who by every report and appearance I believed to be a man above such deceitful activity. I am disgusted by Miss Bingley; I am disappointed in Mr. Darcy. His demeanor was often proud, but the manner in which everyone praised him, my own observations of his generosity, and, I must own, his very beautiful grounds at Pemberley—all conspired to create the portrait of an ideal gentleman. Now his actions in this matter have shattered that ideal. Until I understand whether my regard and affections were inspired by the ideal or the man himself, I shall not know how to think of him.”
Jane drew her into a comforting embrace and smoothed her hair. “Do not distress yourself so. The truth lies nowhere but within your heart, and time will reveal it to you.”
Elizabeth pulled away from her sister and attempted a smile. This was a time to celebrate her sister’s happiness, and she did not wish to further burden Jane with her own selfish concerns. “You are surely right. Thank you, Jane.”
“I must warn you, Lizzy,” Jane teased, the blush of love stealing back into her cheeks, “Do not take overlong in discerning that truth. For Mr. Darcy has already agreed to stand up for Charles at the wedding, and Charles has made clear his desire to have the briefest possible engagement!”
Mr. Bingley and party did indeed arrive at Netherfield the following day, and the gentleman wasted no time in calling on Mr. Bennet that very afternoon. All Longbourn held its breath during their brief consultation behind the closed doors of Mr. Bennet’s library. During that quiet half-hour, the house enjoyed its last prolonged silence for some weeks. Soon enough the Bennet family, led by their effusive matriarch, were aflutter with celebration and wedding plans.
The wedding date was set for early June—scarcely more than six weeks hence, and Mrs. Bennet was beset with an attack of nerves at the idea of preparing for such an occasion in so short a time. Elizabeth, too, would have preferred a longer engagement, although for entirely different reasons.
The weeks passed quickly enough in a flurry of shopping and preparations. Kitty and Lydia continued to be besotted with the local regiment, and several of the officers, Denny and Wickham among them, called frequently at Longbourn. Elizabeth had little patience for the nonsensical flirtation that filled the parlor on these occasions and excused herself from such gatherings whenever possible.
The only event that threatened to disturb Longbourn’s reign of euphoria was the announcement that the regiment would be moving camp to Brighton for the summer. Lydia was invited by Mrs. Forster to accompany her there, and was none too pleased that the dreadfully boring occasion of Jane’s wedding prevented her from accepting.
Elizabeth kept herself occupied by assisting with preparations and devising ways to grant Jane and Mr. Bingley brief respites from her mother, but even this busy schedule somehow left untold hours for contemplating Mr. Darcy. She read his letter so often that the paper wore translucent at the creases from repeated folding and unfolding. Before long, she knew it completely by heart.
With time and the happy influence of Jane and Mr. Bingley’s obvious bliss, she focused less and less on the letter’s beginning and found herself returning frequently to its closing paragraphs.
It was a comfort and a compliment to know that Mr. Darcy did understand her character better than she had believed, and to know that he esteemed her not for trivial ‘accomplishments,’ but for the development of her mind and the source of her spirit. If he had made the effort to come to Longbourn, even after her cold refusal, and look upon her home with open eyes and an open mind, perhaps the least she owed him was the same fresh start.
When next we meet, it is I who should feel fortunate to be greeted as a friend, without hopes of a deeper attachment. He asked little enough from her, but the question remained—was friendship more or less than she wished to give? She had settled that to greet Mr. Darcy with unbiased civility was her duty. What remained uncertain, however, was her desire.
Slightly less than two weeks before the wedding, Jane and Elizabeth sat with their mother in the parlor, anticipating Mr. Bingley’s usual morning call. Elizabeth searched her mind for a new piece of neighborhood gossip or some matter of the wedding breakfast menu—any topic with which she might distract her mother and thereby afford Jane and Mr. Bingley a few moments’ privacy.
The hour of Mr. Bingley’s habitual arrival came and went, and the sisters began to speculate that some matter of business had detained him. After waiting the better part of an hour, they entertained the idea of taking a turn in the garden. The prospect of enjoying a fine May morning outdoors held increasing appeal, and they were almost decided upon it, when the sound of approaching hoofbeats drew Mrs. Bennet to the window.
Elizabeth and Darcy- Ardently Yours Page 10
