Chapter Nineteen
Posted on Monday, 21 April 2008
Dawn had broken in Gracechurch Street, and having lain awake for some time, Lizzy had been privy to the light filtering into the room as it turned from darkness to pale grey. She eyed the closed drapes, sensing rather than seeing a sky heavy with cloud, the past few days’ spring sunshine now but a memory. Turning her head upon the pillow, she observed her sister, whose eyes remained closed. Tired as she had been on the previous evening, Lizzy had not been aware of Jane retiring for the night, so deep had her repose been. Indeed, she could barely recall getting herself ready for bed at all, other than a sensation of the utmost relief that her mind was too weary to dwell upon the evening’s revelations.
Turning her head the other way, Lizzy stared again at the curtained window. Comforted though she was to be once more amongst family, and indeed, familiar surroundings, she could not quite settle herself to simply enjoy it. Although the shock and intensity of her encounter with Mr Darcy on Sunday had receded - along with any lingering dreams - and her dissatisfaction with herself for her own misjudgements had eased somewhat, Lizzy still could not reconcile herself to how keenly she absorbed all and any detail that was revealed in relation to Mr Darcy, nor how often her recalcitrant thoughts would drift towards him.
The knowledge that he had not only called upon his friend so soon after arriving in town, and his purpose in doing so, had left her eager for more clarity. Now, upon hearing that Mr Bingley intended to move into Mr Darcy’s house she had a clear indication that no rancour existed between the two over the latter’s revelations. Lizzy reflected with a grimace that there was a time not so long ago when her instinct would have been to believe that either Mr Bingley was simply very forgiving, or Mr Darcy had not made known the full extent of his interference. Now… now, however, she felt nothing but an inexplicable satisfaction, and indeed gratitude, towards Mr Darcy for not only making the confession to his friend, and so precipitously, but also for what else he might have disclosed, for Mr Bingley’s own words to her on his leave-taking the night before convinced her that he was aware of a deal more than just her sister’s being in town.
With an impatient sigh, and aware that she was once again indulging in the very pursuit that so frustrated her, Lizzy turned her head restlessly on the pillow so that she now faced the canopy above the bed. This growing reversal of her opinion of Mr Darcy could not cease to astound her. Here she was, not five days from having spurned the offer of his hand and declaring to his face that he was no gentleman, forced to accept that the of the two considerable blights upon his character – ones that she had wholeheartedly supported as defining him as the worst of men - had been in one case destroyed as myth and in the other, considerably atoned for. With a groan, Lizzy rested her arm across her forehead and closed her eyes. There would soon be little left to reproach Mr Darcy for, and having already acknowledged some days ago that bereft of her antagonism when thoughts of him intruded, she was left with her continued growing awareness of him as a man, she was unable to prevent her thoughts from rushing back towards that moment outside the parsonage when he had caught her as she fell. Even now, eyes closed to her surroundings, she could smell the spring rain, feel its wetness upon her skin, sense the feel of his coat beneath her hands, the solidity of the frame beneath it of the man who held her…
Feeling the heat steal into her cheeks once more as she dwelled upon this aspect of him – a physical awareness borne of the intimacy of the unwarranted embrace when he had arrested her fall, following so soon upon their heated argument and his profession of his regard for her, Lizzy stirred restlessly in the bed. A distant memory – words spoken by Serena – caught at the edges of her subconscious: Can there be so much awareness in a man’s touch?
“Lizzy?”
Jane’s soft voiced enquiry caused Lizzy to start, and moving her arm to the pillow she opened her eyes and took a deep, calming breath, before letting out a huff of laughter at herself and turning her head to look at her sister, whose eyes were now open and questioning.
“Are you well? You seem somewhat flushed…”
Kicking the covers from her legs, Lizzy rolled onto her side so that she faced her sister, and grimaced before replying, “I am a little warm, that is all.” She smiled at Jane, who returned the gesture somewhat tentatively, and as the memory of the previous evening returned to her mind, said with a smile, “And you? I trust you slept well, for I am certain your dreams must have been pleasant!”
“Lizzy!” Jane rolled onto her back and lay much as her sister had been a moment earlier, staring at the canopy above the bed.
Propping herself up on one elbow, Lizzy studied her sister thoughtfully for a moment, but before she could express what was on her mind, Jane was speaking again. “So it would seem Mr Bingley intends to return to Netherfield, once his business in town is resolved.”
Unsurprised that a certain gentleman might be at the forefront of Jane’s thoughts upon waking, and having a fairly clear notion of what ‘business’ Mr Bingley might have been referring to, Lizzy suppressed a smile, merely nodding in agreement. “If the timing is fortuitous, perchance he will return to Hertfordshire when we do.”
Suddenly, Jane turned her head upon the pillow, a look of concern in her eyes. “But Lizzy – what if he takes Nicholas up on his invitation. He may head to Wiltshire instead.”
“I would not fear on that count. I think the likelihood of Nicholas confining himself to his estate in the foreseeable future is negligible. Aunt Gardiner implied his reluctance to take up the responsibility, and I saw no evidence to the contrary last night!”
Jane appeared not to hear her, and continued thoughtfully, “I do hope that Mr Bingley was not too shocked by the banter between you and Nicholas, Lizzy. For someone unfamiliar with the relationship between our families, it must seem quite… quite…”
“Forward? Lacking in propriety?”
“No! Not entirely. It is just…” Jane sat up and wriggled up the bed until she could lean back against the headboard. “I fear I may have been reckless in contributing to the tale of your youthful indiscretion of entering into a correspondence with Nicholas.”
Lizzy laughed. “Dear Jane! You truly are too good. How could you imagine that you were reckless? Nicholas would have related the escapade whether you had spoken or not. And I was not the only one there pleased to hear your contribution. Mr Bingley thinks very well of you – very well indeed – and I doubt the rather dubious behaviour of any of your siblings will cause him any undue concern.” Lizzy sat up also, plumping up her pillows before reclining against them next to Jane. “And Nicholas has been as a brother to us both, for all that we were not raised in the same household. I am quite certain the level of comfort that exists between us all did not distress Mr Bingley. Indeed, he seemed more as if he would wish to be part of it.”
“But even though it was explained to him – the closeness of the connection – I wonder that he would properly understand.” Jane paused and looked sheepishly at her sister, as if wishing she were not obliged to speak of such things. “We have observed his relationship with his own sister… I wonder if he found it somewhat unnatural – the ease and familiarity, I mean.”
Giving her sister a wry smile, Lizzy shook her head and leaned back against the pillows. “I do not wonder at all; I am convinced he was perfectly content. And much as I would love to share my thoughts upon the naturalness or otherwise of Caroline Bingley, I find it quite beyond my means without possibly causing you distress! But let us forget the sister and concentrate upon the brother, for I am certain that is what he would wish!”
Detecting the sigh that emanated from her sister, Lizzy turned her head to observe her expression, and aware of her glance, Jane returned her look. “I would not wish to give Mr Bingley the wrong impression.”
Lizzy could not help but laugh softly. “Dear Jane – and what impression would you wish to give, precisely?”
“Why, that we meet again as mere common acquaintances from Hertfordshire! But I do fear that I may have given myself away somewhat, despite my efforts to conceal my reactions. It was difficult enough yesterday morning, for the visit was so unexpected that I could barely address him. Indeed, I gave all my attention to Nicholas. And last night, although prepared for his appearance this time, I still found the meeting well progressed before I became somewhat more myself.” Lizzy reached out and patted Jane on the hand as she continued, “I was so overcome by his closeness – I found it difficult to meet his eye without betraying somewhat of my feelings, and you know how much I wish to guard myself from that situation. Oh Lizzy,” Jane grasped her sister’s hand tightly and turned to face her. “I do not think… I cannot – how can I continue in this way?”
Lizzy studied her sister thoughtfully for a moment, well able to comprehend her disjointed statement. Then, squeezing her hand in return before releasing it, she turned to face her sister fully, crossing her legs and tucking her nightgown around her feet.
Reluctant though she was to go against her aunt’s advice, and well aware that interference in Jane and Mr Bingley’s affairs had already led to much mischief, Lizzy was unprepared to stand aside and watch her sister destroy her chance of happiness. Convinced as she had been of Mr Bingley’s affections in Hertfordshire, knowing from the Colonel that Bingley had intended to propose and from Mr Darcy that Mr Bingley’s absence was as suspected down to the actions of others, she felt certain of the gentleman’s intentions. Indeed, coupled with the words he had spoken to her the night before and his manner towards her sister, she was utterly convinced of his purpose now.
“In what way do you fear continuing, Jane?”
Jane’s gaze dropped to her hands, but Lizzy reached over and took them in her own, and when her sister raised troubled eyes to hers she nodded encouragingly at her.
“Lizzy, I have tried so hard to keep a rein upon my hopes. I am struggling to maintain an air of indifference.”
Suppressing the urge to snort, Lizzy grimaced. “It gives me little pleasure to inform you of your success – contrary to your concerns, you are exuding disinterest to anyone but those closest to you. Jane – I wonder if perhaps you should cease the attempt.” At these words, Jane shook her head negatively, but Lizzy continued, “Perhaps it is time to open your eyes, Jane, and have some faith in your sister.”
Seeing the puzzled look upon Jane’s face, Lizzy smiled. “Do you not recall my words to you, when Caroline Bingley sent you that letter? Mr Bingley loves you; I am certain of it.”
“I cannot believe it, Lizzy. If it was so back in Hertfordshire, then why have we not heard from him in all this time?” Jane’s gaze became clouded as if caught in some memory. “And now he is moving in with his friend... do you not also recall that part of Caroline’s letter? Both families desire a connection between them, and in the form of an alliance between Mr Bingley and Miss Darcy.”
Recalling Mr Darcy’s own letter and his words about his sister, Lizzy shook her head. “Miss Darcy is but a child, Jane. She is of an age with Lydia, and you would not imagine our youngest sister as fit for marriage for many a year, surely? Besides, all we are privy to is Caroline Bingley’s desire for such a connection.” Lizzy paused, and then shook her head. “And think, Jane! Mr Darcy would never permit a potential suitor to reside under his roof with his sister. As for Mr Bingley’s not seeking you out, you heard, from his own lips, not once but twice yesterday, that he was unaware of your presence in town. You know, as well as any, that Mr Bingley is as honest and open as the day is long. He told no lie. And his pleasure in being re-acquainted with you was writ plain for all to see – and indeed, Jane, you would have seen it for yourself, had you but looked at him with a little more frequency!”
“But-“
“Be sensible, Jane!”
“I fear I have forgot how...”
“Impossible!”
Jane laughed reluctantly. Giving her a hug, Lizzy then sat back, her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Now – dismiss anything Caroline Bingley ever wrote or implied, and listen to your Aunt Lizzy. The next time we encounter Mr Bingley – and you cannot fail to understand that he intends to continue the acquaintance – you pay him some attention. The poor man is positively begging for it!”
Jane could not help but smile, as her sister gave her a gentle shake before releasing her; then her expression sobered once more. “But Lizzy – there is one other thing that concerns me about Mr Bingley taking up residence with his friend – with Mr Darcy.”
Unsure what Jane’s concern might be, Lizzy felt a flicker of apprehension pass through her, and raising her chin she looked at her sister, before saying diffidently, “And what of it?”
Jane met her gaze innocently, and shrugged her shoulders. “Perchance there may be occasion for us to meet with him. If Mr Bingley, as you say, intends to court our society, then it stands to reason that we may encounter his closest friend – do you not think?”
With a sigh, Lizzy nodded reluctantly. It was not as if it had not crossed her mind already; denial was hardly more likely to make it impossible.
“Lizzy?” Jane spoke hesitantly. “I trust – I do hope that you will not mind? I am well aware that you and Mr Darcy are far from the best of friends.”
Letting out a huff of laughter that held no humour, Lizzy dropped her gaze to her toes, aware that her sense of unease was deepening. Friends? She and Mr Darcy as friends was something that had never occurred to her, and now, as it did, she realised that it was something she could never imagine – there was too much between them for something so tame as friendship. “No, you are quite right, Jane. We are not the best of friends. But,” she raised her head and forced a smile, “I will own that by the time of my departure from Kent, we had progressed to being able to hold a civil discussion! Do not concern yourself, dear Jane. I promise to behave and be perfectly cordial should our paths cross.”
“Of course! I had forgotten with everything else upon my mind. You met with Mr Darcy when you were at Hunsford. How strange…”
“Not really, Jane. Indeed, we knew all along that Lady Catherine de Bourgh was Mr Collins’ patroness, and that Mr Darcy was her nephew. Surely you recall our cousin’s appalling bad manners in introducing himself to Mr Darcy at the Netherfield Ball? It should not be so unexpected for a nephew to visit an aunt – indeed, I was led to believe that it is an annual occurrence at Eastertide.”
“Dear Lizzy – when I said, ‘how strange’ I was not referring to Mr Darcy’s being in Kent. I was referring to the fact that you forgot to mention your being in company with him when telling Aunt Gardiner and I all about your sojourn yesterday!”
Swinging her legs around, Lizzy clambered up from the bed and walked over towards the window, suddenly relishing some activity. As casually as possible, she said over her shoulder, “I did not think that it would be of much relevance. Besides, we had far more interesting things to talk of, with the reappearance of Mr Bingley, did we not?” Aware that Jane had also risen and was even now heading towards the dresser holding the pitcher of water, Lizzy sighed and pulled the curtains aside to look out upon a morning much as she had anticipated: thick cloud overhead, and the street below a bustle of activity. Raising her gaze to the rooftops, she studied the greyness overhead, assessing the likelihood of rain and the chance of taking some air, but her attempt to distract herself failed miserably. The ominous threat of rain merely reminded her of Sunday in Kent, and from there to Charlotte’s words of caution, that the likelihood of happening upon Mr Darcy and the Colonel was increased ten-fold by Nicholas’ presence and his predilection for entertaining them.
Was an encounter with Mr Darcy imminent? Would he be aware of the danger himself? And how would such an occurrence affect him? When she had last seen him on Monday evening his mood had been influenced by the proximity to Sunday’s unpleasantness, and also by the shock of her unexpected presence. But now? Would a poor opinion of her supersede his regard? He would have had ample time to reflect upon her cavalier dismissal of his offer and her unfounded slur against his character over Wickham. It was indeed most likely he would despise her, for after all, had he not professed to having a somewhat resentful nature?
Lizzy swallowed upon this uncomfortable thought. Not so long ago, the notion of invoking Mr Darcy’s displeasure had concerned her little; she had cared nothing for his approbation and had even welcomed his perceived disapproval of her. Yet now… now, what did she feel? It was galling to realise that she had no answer.
Having risen early in order to see his cousin off on his mission to the south coast, Darcy had chosen to retire to his study until a more civilised hour, attempting to concentrate on the paperwork that had failed to grasp his attention on the previous day. With grim determination, he had worked through the various piles of correspondence until the only items remaining in need of his attention, some two hours later, were the stacks of invitations that had accumulated in his absence. As these held as little interest as ever for him, it had been with considerable relief that he had responded to Mrs Wainwright’s summons for him to attend his sister in the breakfast room, and now, as the meal was drawing to a close, he pushed his chair back and walked over to one of the windows to finish his cup of tea in silent contemplation of an almost deserted Mount Street.
Georgiana’s unspoken affection and support for him had been almost more of a trial than his cousin’s persistence in making him speak out. They had made gentle small talk throughout the meal, yet all the while he could detect the compassion upon her face, and the blatant intention of distracting him with any possible subject she could call to mind. In his turn, determined that she not be concerned for him, he had made every effort to converse with her, whatever the topic she raised, and had found the entire exercise exhausting. He was, however, relieved that she had specifically requested that he accompany her on her daily walk once her music practice was over, and it was this intended foray outside that had drawn him to the window.
“There is a deal of cloud about, Georgiana.”
Darcy studied the grey skies for a moment, before turning to regard his sister in her place at the table where she was finishing her meal. He raised an eyebrow in question. “You are certain that you wish to risk a walk? We could always take the carriage out if you prefer.”
Georgiana wiped her fingers on her napkin and got to her feet, coming to join him at the window, and as she too peered up at the rather heavy looking sky, he rested a hand on her shoulder. “Shall we wait to see how things fare once your practice is over?”
She nodded in agreement, still peering out of the window, and he felt her twist under his hand as she leaned forward and suddenly exclaimed, “Why, it is Mr Bingley! He is come!”
Darcy followed the direction of her gaze, and sure enough, a familiar carriage was drawing up outside the house.
He walked over to replace his cup on the dresser, prepared to go and welcome his friend, when a thought struck him that stopped in mid stride. Bingley was, in all likelihood, going to be full of his evening in Cheapside. In truth, Darcy was torn between wanting to hear everything about his time in Elizabeth’s company and without delay, and wishing to know nothing, that he might not regret his own absence from such an occasion. But it was not this thought that gripped him as he stood motionless near the dresser, unaware that Georgiana had turned to observe him.
How could it have escaped his attention that some of the first words out of Bingley’s mouth were likely to contain the name Bennet? And how could he circumvent it? He glanced quickly in his sister’s direction, disconcerted to see that she was approaching him already, a look of grave concern upon her features.
“Brother? What is it? What troubles you?”
Darcy swallowed, and looked down at his feet, aware of the disturbance out in the hallway that indicated Bingley’s arrival in the house. He had no notion how to respond, nor how to avoid the imminent situation arising, frustrated with himself for not considering the impact of his friend’s residence and aware that a brief, carefully worded explanation of Bingley’s acquaintance with the family would probably have sufficed for Georgiana, but that now there was no time to deliver it.
Raising his head, he attempted a reassuring smile as she drew to his side, and he reached out and patted her on the arm, unsure whether he was seeking to comfort his sister or himself, and then walked over to the door only to find it being opened by Pagett and Bingley being admitted.
“Good morning, Bingley. You are very prompt, I see.”
“Darcy, how do you do? And Georgiana,” Bingley bowed in the latter’s direction, before turning a smile upon them both. “Forgive my early arrival. Overton was so expeditious in his packing yesterday, that once I had breakfasted I found myself at a loose end, so I summoned my carriage and was on my way forthwith. I trust that it is no intrusion?”
Darcy shook his head, smiling at his friend and attempting to forestall his anxiety about what could be said in front of his sister before he might have chance to offer a suitable explanation. “You could never intrude, Bingley, and as always I would ask that you treat our home as your own.” Darcy indicated the recently vacated table. “You have partaken of a meal? You do not wish for sustenance?”
“Indeed no – I thank you. I am well fed, but would not say no to a cup of tea.”
Georgiana touched her brother’s arm lightly, and when she had his attention said, “If you will excuse me, Fitz, I will repair to the music room for an hour or so.”
Relief at the temporary respite from what could have been a difficult moment swept through Darcy. “Of course, my dear. I shall be in my study when you are finished.”
Bingley bowed once more as Georgiana gave a small curtsey before making her way towards the door, and he turned an eager countenance upon his friend, who had walked over to the pull the bell beside the fireplace.
“I will not take up too much of your time, Darcy. I have an appointment with my attorney in half an hour. I was most anxious, though, to speak with you regarding Miss Bennet.”
Suppressing a groan, Darcy was unsurprised to see that Georgiana’s hand had stilled upon the door handle, and she threw a startled look towards her brother, who gave a slight shake of his head, but before he could stall her, she said, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
Bingley turned a surprised countenance towards her, then added with a smile. “No, Miss Jane Bennet.”
Georgiana’s eyes grew wider, and she cast a fleeting glance in her brother’s direction before saying, “And does Miss Jane Bennet have a sister?”
Bingley laughed and looked over at Darcy with a rueful smile. “Your brother would say she has all too many!”
“We will see you after your practice, Georgiana,” the note of authority in Darcy’s voice was somewhat belied by the uneasy expression upon his face, and he could well observe from his sister’s face that she was ill disposed to curb her curiosity until a more appropriate time.
They stared at each for a moment in silence as Bingley moved to take up a seat at the table, and then the door opened to reveal a servant. He was soon dispatched with the master’s request for more hot water, but the distraction had been sufficient for Darcy to gather his wits and the firmness in his countenance must have been adequately conveyed, for with a resigned sigh Georgiana curtseyed once more and with a muttered “I am all anticipation, Brother,” left the room.
Blowing out a breath of relief, Darcy turned to the table to join Bingley, whose countenance had sobered somewhat as he idly twirled a teaspoon in his fingers.
“You were quite right, Darcy, in your caution to me yesterday. Miss Bennet clearly harbours some… not resentment, more… misgivings. I suspect she doubts my motive in renewing the acquaintance.” He raised his eyes to meet those of Darcy and gave a self-deprecating smile.
Leaning back in his chair, Darcy frowned. “The evening did not go well? I am sorry to hear it.”
Bingley threw his friend a grateful smile, and toyed with the teaspoon for a moment longer before casting it aside. Darcy could feel the guilt welling up inside him; Bingley did not deserve to be suffering such uncertainty, and he felt his own part in his friend’s predicament deeply. He drew upon the only reassurance he could think of, Elizabeth’s own words.
“It grieves me to have been so in error, Bingley, but I must reiterate that which I related to you on Tuesday: Miss Elizabeth was most adamant that her sister’s hopes had been disappointed. It was perfectly obvious to her that Miss Bennet returned your affections most sincerely.”
Bingley lifted his shoulders and let out a long sigh as he let them fall again. “I do appreciate your attempt to rally me, yet I fear I deserve little reassurance.” He ran a hand through his hair and then picked up the spoon again, which he studied thoughtfully. “Perchance the evening was not so dire.” Grimacing, he let out a small laugh. “I fear I am merely impatient. Miss Bennet was all that was polite… she was even friendly on occasion, but I did not feel anywhere near as secure in her returning my regard as I once did. The evening progressed better than the morning visit, but I believe the hurt I unwittingly caused has come back upon me tenfold. I shall have to work hard to overcome her wariness.”
“I am so sorry, Bingley.”
“Forget it, Darcy. I allowed it to happen. If she cannot forgive me, it is my fault alone – but I will not give up without an effort. She is worth every ounce of it.” Bingley laughed but without much humour. “Perchance I should take a leaf out of Harington’s book.”
“Your friend, Harington? In what way?”
“He has such easy manners,” Bingley paused, clearly wrapped in a memory from the previous evening, and Darcy almost let out a huff of disbelief. That Bingley of all people should envy another’s easy manners struck him as nothing but ludicrous.
With a sigh, Bingley seemed to rouse himself and continued, “Last evening – now I think on it – he had an ability to draw Miss Bennet into the conversation that no one else could. Indeed, the only occasions when she became animated were when he talked of his new residence or of some childhood misdemeanour! He is most entertaining company, Darcy, and has no artifice. I believe you would like him.”
Bingley turned in his seat as the door opened to admit a servant with the hot water and a maid carrying a tray of clean cups and saucers and fresh milk, and Darcy frowned as an uncomfortable notion crossed his mind. The frequent repetition of Harington’s name in association with Miss Bennet, coupled with Bingley’s report of his first meeting with her on the previous day, when her attention had been more fastened upon this other gentleman than upon Bingley, gave him cause for disquiet. Even knowing, from Elizabeth’s passionate avowal, that her sister had held Bingley in the greatest of esteem and that she had suffered deeply from the loss of his regard and attentions, could not reassure him that her attentions had not been diverted in the aftermath of what appeared to be Bingley’s neglect.
He bit his lip, unsure how to voice what he felt he must and then cleared his throat. “Bingley.”
Having secured his friend’s attention from the sugar bowl, Darcy cleared his throat a second time, and swallowed. “Do you - how do you find this… Harington?” Bingley sat up straighter in his chair and dropped the sugar lump he was holding into his cup, clearly surprised at the direction of his companion’s words. “Forgive me, but are you not… somewhat – concerned?”
Bingley frowned in confusion and rested his spoon carefully upon the edge of his saucer. “Concerned? Why the devil should I be concerned – and about Harington, of all people? He is from an excellent family…”
Darcy waved a hand aside. “No – no, I was not questioning the man’s credibility or goodness. It is just…” with an impatient sigh, Darcy roused himself to come to the point. “It is just that Miss Bennet seems somewhat taken… do you not think – with him?”
To Darcy’s utmost surprise, instead of causing his friend a disturbance of mind, or even worse, further heart-searching, he observed the familiar wide grin that immediately appeared.
“Indeed, she is not!”
Darcy frowned. “You seem particularly adamant about that.”
Bingley sobered for a moment, then added, “I must confess that I envy him his ease within the family. He is but a Godson to Mrs Gardiner, but his place seems more that of a surrogate son. And with the Bennets it is apparent that the acquaintance is both of long-standing and almost equal intimacy.”
“And you are not concerned over his level of… intimacy with Miss Bennet?”
Bingley pursed his lips as he attempted to give the matter the seriousness of thought that Darcy seemed to think it warranted. “I perceived no particular notice from him towards her, although I might have been jealous of the attention she paid him, had I observed aught to indicate anything other than a familial bond.”
Feeling somewhat relieved, although not totally convinced, Darcy poured himself a cup of tea and tried to keep a rein upon his desire to question his companion in detail about his evening in Gracechurch Street, but before his resolve to ask no questions could be properly tested, Bingley was speaking once more.
“But I remain confident that if he has any intentions beyond that of a friend, they lie in quite another direction.” Bingley sipped his tea, then met Darcy’s eye with a smile. “I know you and Miss Elizabeth never got along, Darcy, and thus you will find it hard to comprehend, but I can assure you that it is quite the contrary with that young lady and Harington.”
Darcy blinked rapidly as these words were uttered, and his insides lurched uncontrollably amidst the hope that he had misunderstood his friend’s meaning. In an attempt to disguise his inner turmoil he grasped his cup and swallowed a mouthful of hot tea. Allowing the liquid to burn a trail down his throat, he then said as nonchalantly as possible, “Bingley, forgive me, but you may recall I am unfamiliar with this Harington chap.”
“Harington? He is a single man of good fortune, and indeed good family. It is a fair prospect for Miss Elizabeth.”
Was this the way of it? Was Bingley correct, and this Harington was interested in Elizabeth? Feeling a fool for not considering the possibility, and his mind reeling uncomfortably as his senses were assaulted on all sides, Darcy got quickly to his feet and walked over to his earlier place at the window, where he glared at a passing phaeton. Here was his first real mention of Elizabeth, something he had both feared and longed for, and yet it was coupled with this faceless man whose name was beginning to haunt him – a man about whom he was suddenly possessed of a driving need to know more.
Bingley’s voice carried to him across the room, and he closed his eyes as the words penetrated his mind.
“In some ways, they are as brother and sister – if you could only hear their banter and stories of their shared childhood. But I am not so sure. I was privy to his anxiety to wait upon Miss Elizabeth, and his attention was most decidedly fixed upon her last evening.”
Darcy’s eyes flew open as he was gripped with an unprecedented wave of emotion, well able to identify the cause. How he envied this faceless man. He breathed slowly and deeply, and then, feeling a modicum of control returning, faced his friend and attempted a disinterest that was contrary to all his aspirations. “Remind me, Bingley - how is it you are acquainted with Harington?”
“I was at Cambridge with the elder son – Harington’s brother. You are well familiar with the wiles of the Ton, Darcy. Fortune alone can purchase no place with them – it holds no sway. Fortunately, the aroma of new money did not affect James Harington’s nostrils as it did some. Once he had befriended me, of course, being of an old and wealthy family, others followed. I became acquainted with his younger brothers, Nicholas and Patrick, during a summer sojourn at Sutton Coker.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed as he stared at his companion. There was most definitely something familiar about the name James Harington – and he briefly cursed the absence of his cousin, for Fitzwilliam had also indicated some recall of the family name.
“I feel I should know the name – the family. Where is Sutton Coker?”
“They are West Country based; Sutton Coker is but thirty miles from Bath. They own a good deal of land in Somerset, and from what I learned last night, also have smaller manors in neighbouring counties.”
“And the connection between them and the Bennets’ London relations?”
Darcy could not account for his questioning his friend in such a way. Indeed, it was fortunate that Bingley was distracted by his own affairs and failed to comment upon it, for Darcy would have no defence for displaying such singular curiosity.
“Harington – Nicholas Harington, that is – is Godson to Mrs Gardiner, who is aunt to both Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Mrs Gardiner, as I was given to understand, has been a very close friend of Mrs Harington from their earliest years.”
Darcy mulled for a moment upon this close connection. Much as he did not wish to admit it, Bingley was right. It was a fair prospect for Elizabeth. But would she see it as such? Was it merely Harington who was paying his attentions to her, or did she return his interest? Had his cousin been correct, that Elizabeth’s affection for Wickham would not survive the revelation of his true character? And if so… did that leave her ripe for an approach from another, especially another with whom she was not only intimately acquainted but whom the family welcomed? Had she not vowed to his cousin that only the deepest love would tempt her into matrimony, and did he not have proof himself that merely securing a situation was not enough? But Elizabeth had now turned down two proposals – both of which, despite the disparity of the offers, would have secured her family's future to some extent or other... would she…?
“Darcy?”
Blinking, Darcy looked up and realised that Bingley had finished his tea and was getting to his feet.
“Forgive me, Bingley. You are to depart?”
“I must be in Piccadilly in ten minutes, Darcy, so I will leave you for now and seek you out upon my return.”
Accompanying his friend along the hallway, Darcy struggled to detach his thoughts from the path they had taken so recently, but if he hoped for no further mention of Elizabeth, he was to be disappointed. Bingley received his hat and gloves from the footman, who then opened the door for him, but before he stepped outside his friend turned to him once more and added, “I almost forgot, Darcy! Miss Elizabeth asked after you last night. I did explain that I had asked you to accompany me, but she said that she felt she understood your reservations in not calling in Gracechurch Street.”
Darcy winced, well aware of the underlying meaning such a turn of phrase could carry. Whether she implied that she felt he considered the area beneath his dignity, or whether she was covertly referencing the awkward situation they now found themselves in following his ill-advised approach to her on Sunday, he knew not. Either way, it illustrated her continuing low opinion of him.
“Darcy?”
Aware that Bingley was observing him with a somewhat puzzled countenance, he forced a smile and shook his head.
“Forgive me, my friend. I appreciate your passing on the message.”
Bingley gave a nod, and turned to leave, but then he paused on the threshold and said over his shoulder, “I must say, Miss Elizabeth was looking remarkably well, if a little tired from her journey, and she was most certainly in good spirits.” Bingley shook his head as if at a memory. “She and Harington,” Bingley laughed, “they are a most entertaining couple. Well – good day, Darcy. I will see you anon.” And with that, Bingley walked briskly down the steps and along the path to his waiting carriage.
With the breakfast hour over, Lizzy climbed the stairs to ready herself for the appointment with the dressmaker, much relieved to have a reason to escape from her aunt’s gentle interrogation as to why she had failed to mention Mr Darcy’s presence in Kent, when not so many months ago her niece’s correspondence had been full of him. But that was when I hated him, she mused as she reached the landing, and immediately came to a halt as the implication of such a thought struck her. She was well aware that her feelings towards Mr Darcy had mellowed somewhat of late, but had it become so very natural in such a small amount of time to think differently of him, so much so that she could instinctively put her dislike of the man into the past like that? And had she truly mentioned him so very much in her correspondence to her aunt, even when she professed to detest the man?
With no little feeling of discomfort at the reminder of her mistaken understanding of Mr Darcy’s true character, and her foolish conviction in its truth, Lizzy let out a huff of breath and shook her head slightly, as though she would dismiss such unsettling memories, and headed for the chamber door.
Jane was seated at the dressing table fastening the ribbons of her hat as Lizzy entered the room, and she met her sister’s reflection in the mirror with a smile.
“Aunt Gardiner has gone to select a coat and bonnet for me from Serena’s room, and I heard her order the carriage be brought round as I came upstairs.”
Getting to her feet, Jane walked over to the closet from where she retrieved her own coat. “I had not anticipated being in company with Serena again so soon. It will be most pleasant for us all to be together, will it not?”
“It will indeed.” Lizzy walked over to the chest of drawers and picked up her reticule, before turning to watch her sister as she gathered two pairs of gloves from the closet and pulled out their outdoor footwear. Accepting the latter from her sister, Lizzy sank onto a chair and kicked off her slippers, but instead of making any attempt to step into her shoes, she frowned and turned to look up at Jane.
“How did she fare, Jane? Was she well?”
“She was well enough in the circumstances. I think she feels her disability more now that she is of a certain age. When one is a child it must be easier to ignore the obligations of adulthood.”
“I am a little concerned about her. Was there any indication of something amiss when you saw her recently?”
“Not at all. Why do you ask?”
“I received a puzzling letter from her when I was in Kent.”
“Yes, I knew that she wished to write to you, for she wrote from Sutton Coker requesting the direction from me.”
Lizzy tilted her head to one side and narrowed her eyes as she reflected upon Serena’s letter. “Her words were somewhat mysterious. She wishes to consult with me about something that troubles her.” Sitting back in the chair, Lizzy met Jane’s gaze. “ I know that is nothing new, but there seemed to be some pressing urgency in the matter. And yet, she gave you no indication of any such thing?”
“No… there was no hint of anything troubling her when she was in town - but then, you are more her confidante than I, Lizzy.” Jane sat on the bed to attend to her own footwear. “She appeared to have a most enjoyable stay here, and we exchanged a few letters over the Easter period whilst she was away. And then, of course, we heard of her being in Derbyshire once our aunt received news of her father’s bout of ill health.”
Lizzy felt somewhat troubled, but conscious that there was little she could do until Serena arrived, she shrugged and bent to slip into her shoes. “No doubt all will become clear when she arrives.”
“If I think on it,” Jane said thoughtfully, “She did seem somewhat in two minds about paying the visit to Somerset, but Mrs Harington was most insistent and Serena is so attached to her that she could not deny her.”
Lizzy raised her head and grimaced at her sister before sighing. “I do wonder if that was more to do with Nicholas being in residence at the time.”
“What do you mean?”
Getting slowly to her feet, Lizzy walked over to the window and stared down into the busy thoroughfare of Gracechurch Street. “I do not believe that Nicholas has any idea what a disservice he rendered when last we were all in town together, and he went to her aid with such alacrity.”
“A disservice? She was being treated most cruelly by those people… and even had it been in jest – which is was not – it was unforgivable.”
Sighing heavily, Lizzy turned around to face her sister. “People can be cruel, can they not? Especially those who are ignorant.” She walked over to the bed to collect her gloves and then sat down next to her sister. “Yet it was not the first occasion… I am sure I recall in our youth that he both assisted and defended her on one or two similar occasions,” Lizzy laughed softly as she recalled the memories, “despite her antagonism towards him at the time!”
“Then why do you imply it would have been preferable had he not stepped in?”
“Dear Jane! Because as a child, she took it as a matter of course, and her agility troubled her little. As an adult – well, Nicholas’ gesture touched her deeply. Too deeply, I fear… by ‘disservice’, I was referencing the effect upon her heart.”
Lizzy glanced at her sister as she pulled her gloves into place, and Jane bit her lip as awareness dawned. “You believe she still harbours feelings for him, then?”
Shaking her head, Lizzy got to her feet, continuing to tug at the fabric now encasing her fingers in an attempt to gain a more comfortable fit. “I do not know that anyone will ever supplant him, how anyone could. Serena, as you know, lives a quiet and confining life and meets few young men – there is little to distract her.” Abandoning the attempt to make the gloves feel natural upon her skin, Lizzy walked over to peer into the mirror where she pulled a face at her reflection before continuing. “She will not partake fully of Society, even when opportunities present, feeling all the mortification of her uneven gait…it matters not to her that she has no need of a stick. Even with the adapted Patten that Uncle researched and acquired for her, she will not venture far, for it does not suffice in the drawing room or on the dance floor in the way it does on the street.” Lizzy paused, staring unseeingly at the watercolour above the fireplace, a painting that had hung there as long as she could remember. “And of course, she takes such prodigious good care to disguise her true feelings from the object of them, that I doubt Nicholas would ever know. Serena sees it as small consolation.”
It took little more than a glance in Jane’s direction for Lizzy to become aware that her sister was not ignorant of the similarity to her own desire for concealment, but before she could speak a light knock upon the door heralded the arrival of Mrs Gardiner, and Lizzy quickly turned back to the mirror to attend to a recalcitrant curl whilst Jane donned her coat.
“Here we are, Lizzy. I feel this one will compliment the colour of your gown best.” Mrs Gardiner walked over and handed a familiar Spencer to her niece, who took it and held it up, smiling.
“Dear Serena – how she loved this coat when it was first made up! Indeed, I recall that she was reluctant to take it off once indoors, so much did she admire the cut and the fabric!”
Mrs Gardiner helped her niece into the coat, smiling. “It is hard to believe that it was two years ago. I suppose the novelty must have worn off for it to be relegated to her London chamber only!”
“To be fair, Aunt, I think it more likely that it is rather too fine for country use. The red and cream fine striping is very unusual, and the needlework very detailed. Did not Mrs Harington have the garment made up for her?”
“She did indeed. Alicia cannot do enough for the girl,” an expression of sadness filled Mrs Gardiner’s eyes for a moment. “I think she helps soothe the loss of her own little one, even now.” With a shake of her head, Mrs Gardiner fastened the final button. “There. You look very well, Lizzy. To be certain, Alicia did love to dress Serena in all sorts of fine garments as she grew up, and it would appear this Spencer is no exception!”
Lizzy smiled sympathetically at her aunt as that lady passed her a deep red satin bonnet, and fixing it quickly into place she tied the ribbons beneath her chin before holding out both her arms and laughing gently.
“Serena and I may share a similar frame, Aunt, but I think we see the discrepancy of our height here! My arms would appear to be a little longer than hers!”
“Oh dear.” Mrs Gardiner bit her lip as she observed the noticeable gap between the end of the Spencer’s sleeves and Lizzy’s gloves. She glanced around the room and then turned to Jane. “The ribbons, Jane. Where are those ribbons we acquired the other day?”
Hurrying over to one of the bedside tables, Jane pulled out a tissue-wrapped package, from which she took several strands of ribbon. “Which shade do you think, Aunt? The red is not a good match, I fear…”
“Bring them here, Jane,” Mrs Gardiner inspected the offering and then selected two pieces of cream ribbon. “Here, try this.” Indicating to Lizzy to hold out her arms, she neatly tied a piece of wide ribbon to each of Lizzy’s wrists, concealing the small expanse of flesh that had been left exposed.
“There!” Mrs Gardiner smiled as she patted her niece’s arm and turned towards the door. “Come, girls, or we shall be late. And Lizzy - much as I know you dislike the frippery and layers, you are at least sufficiently well attired to face the eyes of Mayfair – indeed, you may even inspire a new fashion!”
With a laugh, Lizzy held her arms out to inspect the effect of the ribbons, which was surprisingly complimentary if a little more dressy than was her custom. “Well, both of you be warned. I may begin to giggle incessantly and talk of nothing but balls and red coats, and if I do, I charge you both to please come to my aid and remove them!”
Darcy’s attempt to give Georgiana as brief an explanation as possible of Bingley’s acquaintance with Miss Bennet had been thwarted somewhat by his sister’s interest in the matter. When she did not attend him in his study, he had repaired to the music room thinking that perhaps she had become lost to time whilst enjoying her instrument, only to find that the pianoforte had been long discarded in favour of investigation. The sight of Georgiana seated by the window and engrossed in a letter brought Darcy no little anxiety, but she had soon disabused his notion that she might have received another missive from their cousin in Kent. The letter, it turned out, was from himself, penned during his stay at Netherfield, as were the others that she had then produced from her pockets.
As he had shepherded her up to her chamber to prepare for their outing, he had endured her quietly voiced but persistent curiosity as best he could, agreeing that the ‘daughter of a local gentleman’ that he had initially referenced was indeed the Miss Elizabeth Bennet that he had later described, and indeed, she was the sister of the Miss Bennet that Bingley was acquainted with. Further than this he refused to be drawn, merely agreeing with her that he had failed to inform her that Miss Elizabeth had several sisters, that Bingley seemed very interested in the eldest and that yes, Miss Bennet was presently in town, but no, he did not anticipate renewing his acquaintance with her, despite the fact that his friend had.
His sister had seemed a little puzzled by this statement, but Darcy had firmly ushered her, still bristling with curiosity, into her room and closed the door upon her with the warning that he would be back to escort her downstairs in a half hour.
Thus it was that some thirty minutes later, he was now accompanying Georgiana down the stairs, both of them dressed for the outdoors, towards a recently returned Bingley in the hallway.
“Are you quite certain that you wish to accompany us, Bingley?”
“Absolutely. Miss Bennet is to attend to some shopping this morning, of that I was apprised last night, so there is little point in my making a call in Gracechurch Street; Overton is making it blatantly obvious that I hamper his unpacking, and as I have already spent an hour in the smokiest office imaginable whilst having some documents drawn up, a stroll in the fresh air will be the perfect antidote – even if it does threaten a shower!”
Allowing Georgiana to precede them out of the door, Bingley turned to Darcy as they made their way down the short path and out into Mount Street. “Did you have a particular direction in mind?”
“Georgiana?” Darcy offered his arm to his sister and looked down at her as she took it. “Do you have a preference? Would you prefer St James Park to wandering the neighbourhood?”
“I must own, Brother, that I would rather head for the Square. Should the rain start, then at least we can shelter in comfort.”
“Aha, Georgiana, I see your design!”
Georgiana looked a little startled at this pronouncement from Bingley, but then smiled as he beamed at her.
“You would not, by any chance, be a frequenter of Gunters?”
“I am, Mr Bingley. I do not think I have seen the equal of their iced pastries.”
“Indeed, no. Harington – an acquaintance of mine – brought some of the very same with him when we called upon Miss Bennet only yesterday morning, and very well received they were too.”
Struggling with an irrational wave of jealousy at the mention of Harington’s name again, and aware that Georgiana had cast a quick, enquiring glance up at him, Darcy sought frantically for a change of subject, but before his mind could oblige him, he felt her disengage her arm from his and step ahead to walk alongside his friend. His steps faltered as he watched his sister engage Bingley on the very subject he had hoped to circumvent.
“Do you think that we might encounter Miss Bennet during her stay in town, Mr Bingley?”
Suppressing a groan, Darcy quickened his pace in order to keep up with the two people in front of him, although he derived little comfort from overhearing their discourse.
“I should think it very likely, Georgiana! I am certain she would be most honoured to make your acquaintance.” Bingley exclaimed, and he threw a laughing glance over his shoulder towards Darcy. “Your brother has already met her, and I am certain there could be no objection.”
“Yes, so I have just learned.”
Taking the arm offered to her by Bingley, Georgiana threw her brother a look of smugness, before returning her attention to her companion. “Now, Mr Bingley, tell me all about Miss Bennet and how you came to meet her…”
With their visit to the dressmaker in Mayfair concluded to everyone’s satisfaction, and the necessary accessories purchased to complete their attire for Monday’s ball, Mary Gardiner had despatched the servant and carriage to Gracechurch Street with their purchases, with the instruction to return and await them in Berkeley Square.
A pleasant ten minute stroll later and the ladies were entering Gunters fine establishment, well disposed to partake of the refreshments on offer after a busy morning’s shopping. As soon as they arrived, they were assisted into seats near the bay window, and immediately turned their attention to the tasselled menu card. Heads together over the table as they poured over the list of cakes, pastries and ices on offer, they were oblivious to the passers-by in Berkeley Square, and therefore were not aware of a certain gentleman’s presence as he at first strolled nonchalantly by, then paused and did a double-take before striding purposefully for the door.
Having made her choice of dessert, Lizzy sat back in her chair, leaving Jane and her aunt to continue debating the benefit of marzipan over icing. Removing her gloves quickly, she then released the ribbon beneath her chin, relieved to be freed of the oppression of such garments, but as she removed the bonnet from her head her eye was caught by the gentleman who had just entered the café and now stood motionless inside the door.
“Nicholas is here!”
Lizzy’s announcement caused her two companions to withdraw their noses from the menu card and look towards the new arrival, who had now bestirred himself and was making his way between the small tables and chairs.
“Good morning, Aunt. Jane.” Nicholas bowed twice, then turned his attention to where Lizzy was seated, and meeting her eye with a searching glance, bowed once more. “Lizzy.”
Lizzy studied Nicholas thoughtfully as he acquired a chair from a nearby table and settled himself by her side. He was extremely pale, and she reached out a hand and touched his arm to draw his attention, before saying quietly, “Are you well, Nicholas?”
“Quite well, I thank you.” She saw him flick a quick glance towards her aunt and sister, who had turned their attentions to the waiter, now patiently awaiting their order, before returning his glance to one of her hands where it now rested upon the table. Raising his arm, he touched the edge of her sleeve briefly, where it met the wide piece of ribbon that had been tied around her wrist earlier, before lifting his eyes to hers, a brow raised in question.
“I was a little surprised to see you… thus attired.”
“Indeed,” Lizzy smiled at his apparent confusion before elaborating. “I had need of borrowing a coat. This is Serena’s.”
“Yes, I know.”
“It is a becoming shade, do you not think?” Lizzy laughed, before turning her attention to the waiter and placing her order. A moment passed whereby Nicholas requested a cup of coffee; however, the waiter had but turned from their table before Mrs Gardiner called him back, wishing to change her choice. Turning quickly to Lizzy, Nicholas muttered under cover of the distraction, “Lizzy, I would – I must talk with you.”
Surprised at the urgency of his tone, and indeed the seriousness of his expression, Lizzy hesitated a moment too long, and before she could respond her aunt was addressing her companion instead.
“So - to what do we owe the honour of your presence, Nicholas? Are we ladies unable to venture upon a short shopping expedition without you joining us?”
“Dear Aunt – you know that no one enjoys a trip to the shops as well as I do. Indeed, I should have been born female, for I swear I am far better a judge of lace than any of you.”
“Then I hate to disappoint you, but we have already completed our purchases, and they are, as we speak, on their way to Gracechurch Street.”
“I shall bear the deprivation as best I can, Ma’am.” Nicholas inclined his head in his Godmother’s direction with a smile, then added, “But it is, indeed, most fortuitous that you are now at liberty, for I would very much enjoy some company as I complete my morning perambulations. Would you be so good as to accompany me in a stroll around the gardens? It is the best hour of the day to see and be seen, and knowing how Lizzy enjoys the study of people, this will provide her with ample opportunity.”
Mrs Gardiner eyed her niece fondly. “I am quite sure that Lizzy would welcome the opportunity to stretch her legs, for we all know her enjoyment of a good walk, and we shall be delighted to join you, I dare say, but not until we have partaken of our ices! A heavy morning’s shopping is always certain to stir a lady’s appetite!”
Upon reaching Berkeley Square, the party from Mount Street paused on the pavement outside Gunters and Darcy once more observed the sky. Although the cloud was as thick as ever, it had not darkened and the threat of rain seemed less likely than it had earlier.
Seeing Georgiana’s eye caught by the tempting display in the window of the nearby establishment, he smiled. “Do you wish for refreshment, Georgiana, or shall we walk in the gardens and call back later?”
“Oh, a walk first, I think – do you not agree, Mr Bingley? We were having such a pleasant conversation…”
Darcy shook his head at his sister as she threw him a guileless look, and she bit her lip before mouthing ‘sorry’ at him. Despite his discomfort, however, he found himself unable to be anything but slightly amused at her persistence, and as Bingley had clearly welcomed the opportunity to expound upon his favourite subject – Miss Jane Bennet – there was little he could do about it. He was quite certain that Georgiana, for all her curiosity, would not take the step of asking about Elizabeth specifically.
They crossed the street and entered the garden through the gate that Darcy had used only two days earlier, Bingley once again offering his arm to Georgiana, who clearly wished to engage him further in conversation. Darcy reflected for a moment that his friend had been as good for his sister as he had been for him. There was something about Charles Bingley, with his friendly face, his open manners and his easy disposition, that endeared him to the Darcy siblings, and enabled them to be more themselves, more natural, in his company than with anyone else outside the family. Indeed, having had to be a father figure for much of Georgiana’s life, there had been times when Bingley had assumed the role of brother more than he.
“Shall we stroll towards the arbour?” Bingley turned to look at Darcy, who shrugged his shoulders.
“As you wish. Lead the way, Bingley.”
Offering his arm once more to Georgiana, who took it with alacrity, they set off at a steady pace, with Darcy following, his pace slower and his mind elsewhere; thus it was that he failed overhear Georgiana’s words to his friend as they rounded the corner of the path ahead.
“So tell me about Miss Bennet’s family – and her sisters! Please tell me all about her sisters!”
Having concluded their meal and in good spirits, the group made their way safely across the road into the gardens in the centre of Berkeley Square. Observing Nicholas as he fussed over Mrs Gardiner and Jane, offering to hold shawls and who knew what else as they readied themselves for their walk, Lizzy smiled to herself. He was such a kind man, such a good man.
Indeed, had she not desired to marry for love, she would have considered a match with Nicholas to be highly desirable. Her mother certainly had seen it as such, and had not held back in her scheming to ensure that either Jane or herself were successful in so doing!
But no – upon sensible reflection, she knew that they would never be content with each other. Their minds were too similar; there was almost… too much comfort between them. Lizzy was all too aware that she needed to find a partner in life who would balance her; someone who would be serious when she could not; someone who might challenge her way of thinking, enhance every aspect of her life.
Lizzy sighed. She knew she was likely awaiting a gentleman who did not exist, and if he did, there was no guarantee that he would return her affections. Perhaps holding out for love was a mistake… for what had she seen that hinted of love bringing joy and pleasure? Real, genuine, heart-felt love – all she had experienced of late indicated quite the opposite, that it brought nothing but heartache: Jane, Mr Bingley, Serena… Mr Darcy… what was the worst pain of loving - the fear of it being unrequited, or the reality of rejection?
Rousing herself as Nicholas approached, her sister and aunt walking slowly along behind him, Lizzy smiled, attempting to shake off her dismal thoughts. Taking his offered arm, they turned towards the centre of the garden, and welcoming the opportunity to talk to him without interruption she said thoughtfully, “Do you recall when we were younger, Nicholas, and we talked of the future?”
“I believe the subject came up on more than one occasion. To which particular element of the future do you refer?”
Lizzy glanced at him. “Most particularly – of marriage.”
Nicholas gave a somewhat bitter smile. “Indeed I do. You had some youthful, optimistic view of the state.”
“Then you recall my assertion that I would marry for naught but love!”
“Indeed, but then you were but a child. You could be forgiven such foolish impetuosity of thought!”
Lizzy laughed as they came to a junction in the path, and Nicholas looked to her for a direction. Nodding to her left, they turned their feet in that direction before she responded.
“I was fourteen! At fourteen a girl’s mind has long turned to matrimony – did you not realise?” Lizzy glanced over her shoulder towards where Jane and her aunt were following. “Well, suffice it to say, you may perchance have been right... for I am changing my opinion upon it.”
“Upon what, precisely?”
“That only love should induce one into matrimony – from what I have seen of late, love seems to preclude one from that very same state. Love brings the person bold enough to feel it nothing but pain.”
Nicholas grunted. “When one discovers it is not returned, perhaps.”
Thinking of her sister, Lizzy smiled ruefully. “But even before that – it is the not knowing… the uncertainty before a declaration is made – whether the hopes and dreams will be answered…”
Lizzy stopped and swallowed hard. How was it that those words immediately brought to mind Mr Darcy and how he must have suffered following her rejection? If he really had loved her – as he declared – and she must assume he spoke no lie, for she certainly was no catch compared to the ladies of the Ton – if he loved her as ardently as he claimed, then was he not likely to be harbouring strong feelings of rejection even now, just days later? Aware that her insides seemed to be tying themselves in knots, Lizzy drew in a deep breath. Conscious that an encounter between them was more than likely, given Mr Bingley’s reappearance and Nicholas’ proclivity for drawing them to Mayfair, she could only hope that his discomfort would not be increased by the situation. Indeed, although she doubted her earnestness, she could almost believe it might be best if resentment truly had set in, that his anger might guarantee him some sort of protection.
Aware that her companion had turned to face her and was studying her face intently, Lizzy attempted to rouse herself.
“Forgive me, Nicholas. My mind is elsewhere this morning.”
Nicholas shook his head. “In that you are not alone.” He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “But I take heart from your words. I believe that we are of like minds on this.” He looked around quickly, aware that his aunt and Jane were some distance behind and that ahead there was only a stranger. “Lizzy, we must find an opportunity to talk – away from company or interruption." he stopped, as the grip on his arm tightened, and looking quickly at his companion’s face he became aware that he had lost her attention. Following her gaze, he looked again at the stranger ahead of them on the path, but as he was walking in the same direction as them, he could not discern his identity.
“Lizzy? What is it?”
Feeling all the perversity of fate, Lizzy let out a low, disbelieving laugh. She shook her head at Nicholas to assure him she was well, then turned back to look at the retreating figure. That she recognised instinctively the broad set of those shoulders she refused to acknowledge; yet the constant flexing of the fingers of the left hand were enough to confirm what she already knew. Perfectly aware that she might be the last person he would wish to encounter, and with no clear idea of what she could possibly have to say to him, she did not stop to examine her purpose. Releasing her hold on Nicholas’ arm, she walked quickly after him, and as soon as she was close enough to be heard, spoke his name with quiet authority.
“Mr Darcy.”
© 2006 - 2008 Copyright held by the author.