Elizabeth and Darcy- Ardently Yours

by Evangeline Wright

  “I forget, Mr. Darcy, that you are not accustomed to assemblies such as this, so crowded with guests that little space remains to admit propriety. I fear you find our country manners rather shocking.” Her tone was light and teasing, and his reply equally so.

  “No, indeed. Sir William’s hospitality is most generous, and I find nothing lacking in present company, I assure you.” He turned to her and confided softly, “In suggesting we take some air, I merely hoped that doing so would afford us some opportunity to speak privately. I regret that our discourse the other day was chiefly occupied with such unpleasant matters.”

  Elizabeth’s mind raced. If Mr. Darcy awaited only her encouragement, as Jane suggested, this moment was her opening. Only the decision of whether she wished to pursue it remained. She searched her heart for any lingering trace of resentment or uncertainty, and, finding none, answered quietly, “It does seem a shame to dwell on the unhappy past when there is so much present cause for celebration. I have not properly thanked you for your part in reuniting my sister and Mr. Bingley.”

  Mr. Darcy began to object, but she continued quickly. “I thank you also for your letter. You were under no obligation to explain your actions to me, but I am grateful that you did.”

  “If it caused you to think better of me, then I am glad to have written it. Since delivering it to your hand, I have often doubted the wisdom of writing such a letter. I fear I committed some pledges to paper that I would rather now deny.”

  Elizabeth stopped and withdrew her arm from his hastily. “Of course, sir. I understand you completely. Circumstances and sentiments alter with time.” Mortified beyond comprehension, she turned back toward the house, but Mr. Darcy caught her arm.

  “Miss Bennet, please. You mistake my meaning.”

  She turned back to face him and encountered a gaze that was determined, ardent, and blessedly familiar from an evening some weeks past, at Hunsford. His grasp on her arm loosened, and his hand trailed downward to capture hers. Elizabeth allowed him to lead her to a bench beneath the arbor, where they sat engulfed in the heady perfume of roses.

  “Forgive me,” he began, “but I must speak plainly. We have misunderstood one another so frequently over the course of our acquaintance, and often to disastrous effect. I assure you, my affections and wishes have not changed since April. The past weeks have done nothing to alter them in the slightest; quite the contrary. In my letter, I assured you I would not renew any expression of those sentiments. It is only that promise I now regret.”

  Elizabeth gazed at their hands loosely intertwined on the bench between them. Mr. Darcy seemed suddenly conscious of prolonging such a liberty and began to withdraw his hand, but she tightened her fingers around his.

  “Do you recall telling me in Kent that you would embrace your family in Hertfordshire all the more eagerly for having been parted from them?” he asked softly. “It was your observation that distance has the effect of increasing one’s affection.”

  She nodded.

  “The past month has shown me the proof of your theorem, Miss Bennet. Never before did I appreciate what great distance separates Pemberley from Longbourn.”

  He moved to close the gap between them, as if the few inches that remained of that distance were still an expanse too wide to tolerate. He turned her hand in his to expose her palm, and Elizabeth watched his fingertips trace the long, slow journey from the base of her wrist to the hollow of her arm. It was the lightest of caresses, barely grazing her skin—but utterly piercing in its tenderness. At last, she found the courage to lift her face to his.

  “Sir, you must not begin to repeat the things I said to you in Kent. Your excellent recollection in this instance is unpardonable. I said so many things that I would wish you to forget.”

  “And what did you say to me that I did not deserve? My behavior to you at the time merited the severest reproof. I shall not allow you to regret your reproaches.”

  “But you must!” Mr. Darcy blinked, surprised at the vehemence of her exclamation. Elizabeth softened her tone and began again. “Let us not quarrel for the greater share of blame, for we neither behaved with civility that evening. For your mistakes, you have tendered both explanations and apologies, but my own misapprehensions remain unconfessed. I now beg your leave to speak plainly. You must allow me to tell you…”

  “Shhhh.” He gently laid a finger against her mouth to silence her. His gaze was dark and searching, and for an instant, she believed he intended to replace his finger with his lips. Instead, Mr. Darcy rose from the bench abruptly and stood in the center of the path, leaving Elizabeth breathless and bewildered in the shadow of the arbor.

  “Darcy! Is that you, man?” Mr. Bingley approached from the house.

  “What is it, Bingley?”

  “It is Caroline. She is complaining of a headache and insists on being returned to Netherfield. I would send her with Hurst, but you know he was half-drunk before we even departed. I would take her myself, but…”

  “But you are to be married in less than a week and wish to spend every possible moment with your intended. Say no more. Order the carriage and tell your sister I shall be there presently.”

  “You have my unbounded gratitude, Darcy!” Mr. Bingley’s voice faded as he quickly returned to the house, eager to resume his place at Jane’s side.

  Once he was safely gone, Mr. Darcy dropped back to the bench and cast Elizabeth an apologetic smile. “It seems I must be going. Forgive me. I will see Miss Bingley safely deposited at Netherfield and return as quickly as possible.”

  “Please do not apologize. Mr. Bingley’s interruption may have been for the best. We have tarried here too long already, and we would soon be missed.”

  “Miss Bennet, would it be too forward of me to—That is, might we continue this conversation at another time and place, where we can be assured of having no interruption? Is it still your habit to walk out in the mornings?”

  She nodded. “You may find me in the lane within an hour of daybreak.”

  “Tomorrow, then.” He rose and bowed. “I must inform my sister that I am leaving. May I ask you to look after her in my absence?”

  “It will be my pleasure, sir.”

  When Mr. Darcy had gone and Elizabeth had sufficiently settled her spirits, she returned to the house in time to heed the call to supper. She invited Miss Darcy to join their family table, and the young lady happily complied. Toward the end of the meal, Maria Lucas opened the pianoforte, and Mary, as usual, hastened to perform. Sir William approached their table and addressed Elizabeth.

  “Miss Eliza, I hope you will also delight us with a song this evening.”

  “If you insist, Sir William.”

  “Capital!” He turned to Miss Darcy. “And you, Miss Darcy—my daughter tells me you are exceedingly accomplished in all pursuits musical. I trust that we may depend upon you for a delightful performance.”

  Miss Darcy merely smiled and nodded slightly, but she grabbed Elizabeth’s arm in desperation the moment Sir William turned his back. “Oh, Miss Bennet! Please tell me I shall not be forced to play before all these people!”

  “Of course not, if you do not wish it. We shall find you a means of escape.”

  Mary, having at last learned the virtue of brevity in such performances, finished her song and rose to cede her place at the instrument. Sir William looked expectantly at Elizabeth and motioned for her to take her sister’s place.

  “Kitty!” Elizabeth addressed her younger sister in a tone that would brook no refusal. “Be so good as to take Miss Darcy for a turn in the garden. The air inside is very close. Is it not, Miss Darcy?”

  “Indeed,” Miss Darcy replied gratefully. “A stroll in the fresh evening air would be most welcome.”

  Kitty dutifully linked arms with Miss Darcy and led her into the gardens, and Elizabeth seated herself at the pianoforte. She chose to sing an ancient folk ballad that told a stirring tale of love, loss, and redemption. It was a simple tune that found a warm reception
in any such assembly, and Elizabeth performed with her usual engaging spirit. As she struck the final chord, the guests rewarded her efforts with hearty applause, and Elizabeth looked up to spy Mr. Darcy standing in the far doorway.

  He did not applaud, but appreciation was writ plainly on his face. His lips curved in a slight, secret smile, and he fixed her with a look of unadorned affection, entirely free of design or disguise. No elegant letter or passionate declaration could have expressed his love more eloquently, and Elizabeth’s heart swelled with the blissful certainty of loving in return.

  She would have gone to him then, but Mrs. Hurst approached the pianoforte and pressed Elizabeth into the service of turning pages. The piece of Mrs. Hurst’s choosing was a lengthy sonata, and it was some time before Elizabeth was at liberty to seek him out. When her eyes went to the doorway, however, Mr. Darcy was no longer there.

  Elizabeth started to quit the room in search of him, but Mrs. Bennet accosted her in a flutter of furious fanning, demanding her immediate attention.

  “Oh, Lizzy! Whatever shall we do? Lady Lucas tells me that there is no champagne to be had in all of England. A blockade or embargo or other rubbish! We simply cannot have a wedding breakfast without champagne!”

  “The casualties of war are great indeed, Mama, but I expect we shall survive the deprivation.”

  “Oh, it is not to be borne! The regiment is leaving us, and now there is no proper wine to be had anywhere!”

  If only the Crown would appoint her mother as emissary to France, Elizabeth thought, Napoleon might be persuaded to forfeit his interest in England altogether.

  Kitty flounced by on the arm of Lieutenant Denny, and Elizabeth stopped her short. “Wherever is Miss Darcy?”

  Kitty giggled and exchanged a coy glance with Denny. “Oh! I think she is with Miss Bingley.”

  “With Miss Bingley? But Miss Bingley is already …” Thoroughly irritated with her fool of a sister, she left Kitty to her flirtation and embarked on an increasingly anxious search for Miss Darcy. She was not to be found in the hall, nor in the dining room or the salon. Elizabeth rounded the corner into the drawing room with mounting alarm—only to find Miss Darcy ensconced in the same chair as earlier.

  “Miss Darcy! Please forgive me for neglecting you so long.”

  “Oh no, Miss Bennet. Thank you for preserving me from Sir William!”

  “Sir William?” Mr. Darcy approached them with an amused expression. “Georgiana, it has not escaped my notice that you are growing into an exceptional young lady, and I fully expect that I shall one day be forced to call a man out in your defense. But I must say, I would not have guessed it to be Sir William!”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Sir William would prevail on her to play the pianoforte,” she explained, “but with Kitty’s assistance, we were able to spare her the pain of refusing him.”

  “Thank you, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said softly. Elizabeth met his tender gaze and felt her cheeks flush instantly. She quickly returned her attention to his sister, for the first time noting Miss Darcy’s own rather pale complexion.

  “Georgiana, are you well?” Mr. Darcy knelt before his sister with true concern. The young lady’s breath was quick and shallow, and even as she verbally assured her brother that she felt very well indeed, her distracted manner suggested otherwise.

  Mr. Darcy drew Elizabeth slightly away from his sister’s hearing. “It seems my sister has had sufficient stimulation for one evening,” he said.

  “Yes, she appears fatigued. You would do well to return her to Netherfield, I think.” She smiled ruefully at this second ill-timed interruption, but Mr. Darcy’s reply removed any disappointment.

  “A shortened evening will do me no harm. I have an early morning engagement of the highest importance.” He took her hand and kissed it quickly before gathering up Miss Darcy. Brother and sister bid Elizabeth farewell and went to pay their compliments to the Lucases.

  Elizabeth made her way to the hall, where the dancing was once again in full swing. Mr. Bingley asked for her hand in the next, and she gladly accepted. Elizabeth felt that her heart might burst from unexpressed joy, and the unbridled merriment of the dance came as welcome relief. Her bliss was tempered, however, when the dance ended and she sought out her sisters—only to find them in most unwelcome company.

  “Mr. Wickham,” she greeted him coolly. “I was unaware we had the pleasure of your company this evening.”

  “I arrived rather late, I am afraid. I have been settling my accounts in Meryton before we decamp tomorrow.”

  Lydia, as ever, clung to the lieutenant’s arm shamelessly, and Kitty and Maria clearly envied her daring. Even Mrs. Forster took little pains to hide her own infatuation with the man, being scarcely older and no more sensible than the other three. Mr. Wickham took his leave of the ladies, and Elizabeth observed the colonel’s wife follow him with a gaze that combined smug possession with permissiveness, as though he were on loan to the young ladies of Meryton for one final evening.

  “What a pity that you cannot come to Brighton with me, Miss Lydia! There will be dinners and balls every night!” Mrs. Forster’s expressed disappointment rang false to Elizabeth’s ears, but Lydia’s plaintive reply was sincerely obnoxious.

  “Oh, I shall be positively desolate without you! Without the regiment, Meryton is the most boring town in all of England, I am sure. If only Jane and her Mr. Bingley had been married a week earlier, I might have gone.” Lydia looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was of half a mind to come along anyway, Papa’s permission or no. Lord, what a laugh that would be! But I suppose Colonel Forster would never allow it.”

  Exasperated by the foolishness concentrated in this corner, Elizabeth left the young ladies to their twittering. Neither Lydia nor Kitty had spoken a word of sense since the militia’s installment in the neighborhood. The regiment could not be drummed out of Meryton fast enough for her liking.

  But there was another, far more agreeable reason that tomorrow could not come too soon, and Elizabeth thrilled to recall it. Here was a happy thought that even Mr. Wickham could not remove, and by the end of the evening her cheeks positively ached from smiling.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Longbourn

  Elizabeth had not expected to sleep at all that night. How surprising then, to awaken from a sound, dreamless slumber to find the sun already warming the windowpane. She washed and dressed quickly, twisted her hair into a simple knot, and paused at the mirror only long enough to confirm that her features had suffered no radical rearrangement overnight.

  She left the house soundlessly and set a direct course for the appointed stretch of lane. Her pace was neither rushed nor dawdling, but perfectly deliberate and natural. No observer would have guessed her to have any pressing errand or special destination, but it was precisely this unexceptional air and quiet confidence that filled Elizabeth with joy. She walked out not only to greet this morning, but every morning of her life thereafter—and she did so of her own volition, unencumbered by any sense of duty or obligation. It was a singular sensation, to feel the enormity of her future curled neatly in her palm, and to know it was hers alone to possess, to give, to share as she desired.

  She had not walked far from Longbourn’s gate when she saw him. Mr. Darcy stood to the side of the road, his horse stamping impatiently nearby. Elizabeth quickened her pace and strode toward him, smiling. As she approached, however, she noted his own expression to be dark and gravely troubled.

  “Elizabeth, thank God you are here. I could not have delayed much longer.” He was pale and agitated, and Elizabeth observed his distress with alarm and heartfelt concern.

  “Goodness, what is the matter?” she asked, with more feeling than politeness. “Truly, you look very ill!”

  “Spare no concern for me; I am well. It is my sister. Georgiana has eloped … with Wickham.”

  “Miss Darcy? Eloped with Wickham? I cannot believe it! Perhaps there is some misunderstanding.
Is it certain—absolutely certain that such is the case?”

  Mr. Darcy pulled a neatly folded letter from his breast pocket. “I found this pushed under my door this morning. They are bound for Gretna Green.” He tugged on his horse’s reins. “When I think that I might have prevented this! I knew his true character. Had I explained to her but a part of our dealings, she would never have thrown herself into his power.”

  “But what would possess her to do such a thing?”

  “Mr. Wickham can be very persuasive when he wishes. His chief inducement is no doubt her dowry of 30,000 pounds.” He mounted his horse in one swift, fluid motion. “As to her reasons, you may read them for yourself.” He extended the letter toward her. “Forgive me, I must leave you now. I have not an instant to lose.”

  “I will not detain you a moment. Only …” She reached up with both hands, taking the letter from him and tightening her fingers around his own. “Please take care that no harm should come to you.”

  She released his hand, and with one serious, parting look, Mr. Darcy turned his horse and rode away. Elizabeth watched him depart toward Meryton, and once again she found herself standing in the lane, alone and astonished, mysterious letter in hand. She opened the unsealed paper and read,

  My dear brother,

  You will be grieved when you read this letter, but it grieves me more to imagine your distress when I am missed tomorrow morning. I beg you not to suffer any anxiety on my account. I am bound for Gretna Green—and though I have promised absolute secrecy to my betrothed, I know you will easily guess with whom I have eloped, you are so wise.

  Please do not fault Mrs. Annesley for the pitiable decline in penmanship this letter displays. I can all too well picture the terrible expression on your face at this moment, and my fingers tremble so fiercely they will not master the quill. You will be shocked that I did not seek your counsel before entering into an engagement and, I fear, angered at this abrupt elopement. But as my dear intended reminds me, I am no longer a child. Surely you have always known that one day I must dare to trust my own heart above even your estimable wisdom.