Chapter 26
Elizabeth paused before the cracked door of her father’s study. She ought to simply knock. He had sent Hill to find her, after all. And if the door was open, there was no need to draw back from interrupting him. When her father was preserving and pinning insects to a board, or cataloguing plant species he had gathered and pressed from around the Longbourn property or wood, he sometimes resented any interruptions to his concentration. Yet such could not be the case when he had asked her to come.
But this was all foolishness, borne of her own dread over what he might say to her. Elizabeth sighed and knocked on the doorframe.
“Enter!” her father called from inside the study.
“You wanted to see me, Papa?” Elizabeth asked. She closed the door behind her when her father waved his hand in that direction. “Has something happened?”
She sat down across from him. Mr Bennet sat at his desk, which was another anomaly. He usually liked to read or even study his species boards, where he had pinned various flora or fauna, comfortably seated in his plush chair near the tall windows overlooking the garden.
“Yes, something has. Or at least, it will happen soon.” Her father wore a solemn expression — no, he looked almost haunted. Elizabeth’s heart began to hammer in her chest. Had something dreadful befallen Mr Darcy? Or Uncle Gardiner in London? Or even the Bingley family?
“Tell me quickly, Papa. I cannot bear the suspense,” Elizabeth said. Though they were no longer betrothed, she could not imagine the world without Mr Darcy, even if he would belong to another someday. “Is it Mr Darcy?”
Her father looked at her speculatively. Elizabeth did her best to meet his gaze with equanimity. “It is true he has written to me, but the contents of his letter do not concern himself.” He cleared his throat and began to read.
∞∞∞
Dear Mr Bennet,
I have been to the county prison where Mr Wickham is being held. While there, I met Colonel Forster, who was good enough to inform me of some news of a most serious nature. It appears Mr Wickham was engaged in spying on his superiors in the regiment. He is to be hanged as a traitor for selling secrets to the French. The only good news that has possibly come out of this is that the scandal will not have to be dragged into the public eye. He will not be able to hurt Miss Elizabeth again, and we may all return to life as usual before the compromise was carried out. Colonel Forster has assured me of his ability and intention to clear our names without causing greater scandal. I have given him my approbation and thanks; I hope that this course of action meets with your approval.
I remain dutifully yours,
Mr Darcy.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth had not realised she had been holding her breath until her father finished reading, refolded the letter, and set it aside. Feeling the weight of her father’s gaze, she looked away, studying her hands instead. Such relief, yet mingled with such horror — Elizabeth could not have imagined feeling such wildly disparate emotions. “My goodness! Hanged?” she breathed. “I confess, I had wished to see him imprisoned for what he has done. But hanged?” She shook her head. She could feel no joy in the fact that Mr Wickham’s end should be so gruesome.
And should she not feel ashamed that, upon being informed that a man was about to die in disgrace, she could not seem to stop wondering why Mr Darcy had not come to tell them in person?
“It is perfectly normal to be upset. Especially considering the cordiality you once felt for the man. Dare I even say affection?” her father asked gently.
Elizabeth stood and began to pace. “It is true that I thought very well of him at one time. But he showed his true colours some time ago. It has been weeks now since I have viewed Mr Wickham with distrust and dislike.” She bit the nail on her little finger. “But why did Mr Darcy not come himself to speak with us? Or indeed, why did he write to you instead of me?”
Her father rose slowly from his chair in testimony to his aging bones. He joined her on the other side of the desk, where the faint winter light trailed through the open curtains, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “It would have been inappropriate for him to write directly to you now, Lizzy, since there is no longer an understanding between the two of you.”
The reminder cut to the quick. Elizabeth turned away to collect herself before her tears could well up. “Yes, of course. That is true.” She breathed out slowly and evenly, doing her best to keep the emotions at bay. “Well, I thank you for telling me about Mr Wickham. May I be excused?”
She turned and saw the sadness seeping into her father’s eyes. “Of course, dear Lizzy.”
She gave a tight-lipped smile and hurried from the room. Elizabeth was about to turn up the stairwell and seek solace in her rooms, but when she heard excited chatter floating down to her from above, she reasoned her sisters were already above stairs. And the last thing she needed at that moment was to explain the pain and confusion they were sure to read on her face. She turned instead down the corridor, retrieved a shawl from the hook, and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Elizabeth hurried out the back servant’s entrance and out across the fields. The wind howled around her, loosing her chestnut waves from the simple bun at the nape of her neck, and whipping it around her face.
She barely noticed. The pain emanating from her heart seemed to consume all her attention. Mr Darcy did not care for her — likely had never cared for her. He had only been playing his part, doing his duty to protect her, nothing more. How he must be relieved to be rid of her! Mr Wickham had been right. It had been out of character for Mr Darcy to stand by her — a young woman with no connections, and barely a dowry to speak of, at least compared to his vast estate. Why should he lower himself, if honour did not require it of him?
In light of his behaviour that afternoon, there was little doubt that he never wanted to see her again. And just when she knew she was in love with him. Her whole heart ached to be near him, to see his smile, which was only flawed in being much too rare. The right wife could correct that flaw, if he let her.
And how much might he have taught her! Elizabeth had come to rely on him in ways that she would never have imagined: his calm resolve, his gentleness, and the supposed longing she had thought matched hers whenever they looked at each other. They had made a good team throughout the whole crisis of the compromise, each complementing the other’s skills.
Shivering, Elizabeth wrapped the shawl tighter around her shoulders. It was not really adequate to the weather. The thin material was for keeping warm inside of the house when the night grew chilly, not for traipsing about the countryside with rain on the horizon.
All the same, Elizabeth would not turn back until she had got control of herself. The pain she felt was enough to make her wish she had never tried to find out the truth about who was behind the scandal. If she had only let matters rest, she and Mr Darcy would be fast approaching their wedding day. Was it folly to think she could have made him happy? That, given time and chance, he might have come to love her as deeply as she did him?
Elizabeth stopped when she came to the low wall that separated the small field surrounding the Longbourn Estate and the pasturelands beyond. The landscape was bare and lonely without the sheep herds roaming about, as they did in summer. With storms brewing, there would be no roaming that day. It mimicked how she felt on the inside, wandering about alone, with no direction.
“You stupid woman,” she whispered to herself. Why had she taken so long to realise what an exemplary man Mr Darcy was? She was convinced now that no other man of her acquaintance could equal him. And it was not for his wealth or many fine carriages and houses, his standing in society. Her heart was tied to his now with a kind of kindred knowing that she had never felt with another, besides Jane, perhaps. But even then, it was different. Mr Darcy was like herself, wishing to understand the truth of others. For all Jane’s intelligence, she could not do the same, for she viewed everyone through the lens of her own wishes — to only see and expect the good.
Elizabeth shook her head after several minutes. No matter her longing for him, the truth was always better than a lie. It was a sad reality, but there was at least the comfort of Mr Wickham no longer being able to hurt anyone else with his scheming and lies. And Mr Darcy would not have to worry about the man’s grasping for wealth and his attempts at petty vengeance.
She would simply have to go on without Mr Darcy. Elizabeth turned and started back toward the house as the first rain droplets made contact with the barren earth. She would have to find a way to forget him and move on, even if it seemed impossible.
∞∞∞
“You look lovely,” Elizabeth said. She kept a smile on her face, though with an effort. Several days had passed since the letter from Mr Darcy explaining that they would never have to lay eyes on Mr Wickham again. In that time, Mr Bingley had been to the house to call on Jane every day. Preparations for the wedding were going quickly, and Elizabeth had even given her the dress that she would have worn for her own wedding, to adjust and change as she pleased. “I say, the colour looks much better on you than it would have on me.”
“Nonsense,” Jane said, looking at her with a concerned frown. She paused, stepping off the little pedestal that Elizabeth had had her standing on so she could bring down the hem. Jane was a good two inches taller than Elizabeth, but thankfully, there was enough fabric in the hem to lengthen it suitably. Jane took her hands and made her rise. She gave them a gentle squeeze. “Are you sure you do not mind me wearing this dress? It was meant for your wedding. It seems sacrilegious somehow.”
“Now you are the one talking nonsense,” Elizabeth said with a short laugh. “I wanted to give it to you. Who knows how long I may have to collect a trousseau, or what kind of wedding dress I might want, when I finally have occasion to wear one? This way, you will not have the expense of buying more fabric for your wedding gown. Not that Mr Bingley could not afford it.”
“Economies still need to be taken. Just because he is rich does not mean we can give ourselves to excess. Papa says that a man stays rich by watching his spending carefully.”
Elizabeth urged her to stand still so she could finish pinning the hem. “You will look ravishing in this colour, though. And with a little overlay of Spanish lace, you will look like the queen I am convinced you were born to be.”
“Your flattery is too sweet, Lizzy. I would have married Mr Bingley even if he had only a competency, rather than a fortune. You know it was not his wealth that attracted my heart to him.”
“Ah, but it certainly did not hurt. I think Mama is the happiest of all,” Elizabeth went on, giving a little teasing warmth to her tone. It distracted her from the pain that still lay coiled around her heart. Mr Darcy would be leaving soon, she had heard from Mr Bingley. He was making preparations to return to Pemberley as quickly as possible, and she doubted they would see him again after the wedding for some time. Likely, their paths would cross one day. After all, she would always be Jane’s sister, and he, Mr Bingley’s closest friend. She would have to see him and know he did not care for her.
Elizabeth hung her head and swiped at the tear that streamed down her cheek. She quickly covered it up by grabbing a pin from the little wrist strap on her left arm and pinned the last section. “There, now how does that look to you?” Elizabeth asked, moving out of the way of the full-length mirror so Jane could see.
Jane smiled, and it was enough to make Elizabeth smile as well. “It is perfect,” she whispered. She smoothed her hands over the dark emerald fabric. “I do not think it needs the lace. I like it just as it is.”
“Surely you must have something to add a bit of flair. Mr Bingley is a very fine gentleman, after all. And I will be prodigiously annoyed if Miss Bingley dresses more finely than you at your own wedding,” Elizabeth said, smiling impishly. She helped Jane down and hugged her from behind, looking over her shoulder as they both stared at her in the mirror. “I shall miss you terribly when you go.”
Jane turned around and hugged her tightly. “Oh, Lizzy, we shall not be far from here. At least, not for some time. The lease is not up on Netherfield Park for several months yet.” She brushed a hand down her cheek, then tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ears. Elizabeth could hardly hold back the tears at her sister’s gentle gesture. “I shall miss you, too, Lizzy. Who shall I have my late night chats with?”
Elizabeth laughed at this. “With your new husband, I expect. You shall not need me anymore.” She put the needles and pins away in the sewing box, turning her back on Jane to collect her emotions. “And when you have children, I shall be the spinster aunt who comes and makes a nuisance of herself every few weeks, but I shall be their favourite, I assure you.” She turned back around with a smile that was much too bright. “I will spoil them with sweets and make sure that they never go to bed on time when they are in my care.”
Jane smiled, but there was still concern shining in her eyes. “What makes you think you will be a spinster, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth hung her head, picking at her nails. Her mouth quivered, even as she tried to keep her smile intact. “I have no need of a husband. I shall find a way to support myself so I will not be a burden to Mama and Papa.”
Jane closed the distance between them. “I do not think it is that you feel no desire to be married. I think you believe that no man will be able to measure up to Mr Darcy in your estimation.” She paused, waiting for Elizabeth to look up at her. “You love him.”
It was not a question, but a statement. Elizabeth bit her lower lip, and the tears began to fall. “I never said I loved him.”
“You did not have to,” Jane replied, wiping away Elizabeth’s tears. “I can see it clearly written on your face. Why did you not tell him of your feelings, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth had to walk away, feeling the press of emotion roiling in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. “How could I? He seemed so relieved to be rid of me the night we found out Mr Wickham had been behind the compromise. I have nothing to offer him.”
“You have an intelligent mind and winning spirit, Lizzy. I could not help but see the admiration, even love, shining in his eyes every time he looked at you. Truly, I think he could hardly take his eyes off you.”
Elizabeth shook her head. It was cruel to hope, for she knew it would only end in disappointment. “It is too late. Mr Darcy has made it clear he no longer wishes to be seen with me. He will marry a woman who is more befitting of his station now, someone who will do a far better job than I ever could have in running his household.” And giving him children. That was another thing that made her heart ache. Perhaps she would have children of her own one day, but they would not be his. There would be no son with his stubborn chin and charming smile, no daughter with his thick dark hair…
Jane joined her at the window, looking out at the storm that had been blowing the rain sideways against the house for the last hour. “Oh Jane, I’ve been so blind…”
Her sister wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Elizabeth was glad that she offered no words of comfort. What more was to be said? Mr Darcy was lost to her. Only time could heal that wound.