Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
E lizabeth’s bedchamber, as everything at Netherfield, was decorated with an excess of adornment. While it was much grander than the room which she shared with Jane at Longbourn, its opulence made it feel less comfortable. It was odd to be sleeping in a room alone, but soon she would have to get used to such solitude; after the wedding on Saturday, Jane would no longer be at Longbourn. Elizabeth would miss her companionship dearly. Much as she was excited for her beloved sister, she could not help feeling some anxiety for Jane’s impending nuptials—and those concerns begot more fretful thoughts, which brought about another subject all together.
It was a strange turn of events that had brought Mr Darcy back into her company after more than three years; even stranger was how her feelings had changed for him in the course of a few days. Had he not hurt her so badly before, she could be in real danger of again growing attached to him. Every interaction with him left her feeling closer to falling in love with him again. And now they would have to spend the night under the same roof! Oh! Why did I ask him to be friends? Could I not allow him to think I insulted him and do not care for him at all?
She shook her head at her agreement to meet him in the library the following morning. Foolish girl! She must do better at guarding her heart. She would fulfil her promise and then avoid him the rest of her stay. It would not do to care for a man with whom she could have no future. Although resolved to be amiable—and inconveniently drawn to his company—Elizabeth still believed Mr Darcy to be one of the most prideful and disdainful persons of her acquaintance.
Elizabeth pulled back the bedcovers and climbed onto the mattress, her thoughts about Mr Darcy still swirling madly. Despite the battle waging within her—the temptation to fall for him again versus the conviction that he was a man she could not trust—she reminded herself that he had made it quite clear he neither regretted her nor desired her. That was the home truth, was it not? I do not need to convince myself that he is not suitable for me if he is not even fighting for my heart. And yet, she thought , why had he touched my hair? Frustration welled within her at the notion that he would so nonchalantly play with her emotions. It was exciting, yes, but highly improper. Perhaps he merely acted impulsively because of their shared history, and it was something he now regretted.
Realising that she was not going to have any sound answers this evening, Elizabeth resolved to stop thinking about it. She laid her head on a soft pillow and covered her face with another one. Closing her eyes, she attempted to calm herself and fall sleep. Her efforts would be in vain though, for these unrelenting thoughts would keep her up for most of the night.
Elizabeth’s eyes stung as they fluttered open. Her head felt clouded with fog as a dull, throbbing headache made itself known. She pulled the expensive linens close to her with heavy, aching arms and squeezed her eyes tight, trying to will herself back to sleep. Within minutes, she knew it was a lost cause. Exhausted, she tossed the blankets aside and drew apart the curtains surrounding her bed. She saw that while it was still dark outside, the colours in the sky revealed that sunrise was approaching.
Rising from the bed, she walked over to the fire. She felt its warmth touch her skin and yet remained cold, seemingly unable to get warm. Sitting down on the floor in front of it, she curled her knees up to her chest as she watched the movement of the flames. There was something calming about watching a fire, and she would accept anything that would soothe her nerves today. It is not much longer. He will be gone soon, she told herself.
In the depths of the night, something peculiar had happened. Something she thought she had put to death a long time ago had apparently only been sleeping and was reawakened with force. Her rekindled feelings for Mr Darcy, which had taken root the previous evening, flourished with newfound intensity. She realised now that the once formidable barrier of resentment she had held against him had crumbled, leaving behind only lingering affection and a compelling attraction. She found herself both surprised and disheartened by her own vulnerability, for Mr Darcy had barely touched her and she was already thinking about being near him the very next day.
The only credit she could give herself was that she did not think she loved him but was instead intensely intrigued by and attracted to him. This is nothing more than slipping back into old, comfortable habits. I will not love someone who can only cause me heartache. He does not even find me tempting! Once Mr Darcy was out of her life again, she knew she would be able to move on.
She had vowed not to be so easily swayed into giving away her heart again. She had learnt from the painful lesson of the past that her head must overrule her heart. And so, during her restless hours in the quiet of the night, a solution to protect herself had unfolded. What had initially been a fleeting idea had rapidly grown into an undeniable resolution: she would agree to marry Royce when he proposed. The notion brought her tranquillity; she hoped it would quiet her yearnings, for she could not be tempted to flirt with one if she was resolved to marry another.
There was no valid reason why she should not marry Royce. Their life together promised comfort and contentment. She liked him and believed that, given time, love would surely blossom between them. Her experience with Mr Darcy had taught her that practicality and reason should guide matters of the heart. Royce possessed qualities desirable in a husband: he was amiable, charming, devoted, good-looking, and wealthy. Most importantly, he was kind to her family, and would be able to support and care for them in the event of her father’s passing. Refusing such an opportunity seemed foolish. Inhaling deeply, Elizabeth saw that light had broken, and soon it would be an appropriate hour to go downstairs for breakfast .
After dressing, she made her way through the dark corridor towards the dining room. Most of the rooms she passed required candlelight due to the ominous, grey skies which threatened a resurgence of the storm. Doubtful that the roads were acceptable for travel, Elizabeth suspected she and her sisters would likely remain another night at Netherfield.
As she stepped into the dining room, her eyes widened as they fell on a sumptuous breakfast display fit for a king. The grandeur of the scene provided a lovely contrast to the melancholy skies, and she felt her spirits lift at its cheerfulness. She walked along the sideboard, her fingertips tracing the table as she took in all the culinary sights. There were cakes, fruit, eggs, meats, and even hot chocolate, all arranged with great care in a celebratory fashion.
The others began to enter; with the exception of a rather confused-looking Miss Bingley, all appeared equally impressed. Last to arrive was Mr Darcy, who entered through the door closest to Elizabeth and came to stand next to her. Feeling overwhelmed at his nearness, she removed herself from his presence by briskly walking over to the opposite side of the room as murmurings of excitement at the breakfast could be heard.
Jane’s eyes sparkled as she looked warmly at Mr Bingley. “This is magnificent! I do not recall ever seeing such a splendid breakfast.”
“Well, it is a very special day, is it not?” He beamed as he gestured towards Mary. “Our cook prepared this feast in honour of Miss Mary’s birthday.”
Jane placed her hand to her chest. “How kind of you to think of that in the midst of this storm.”
Despite the great kindness that was being shown to her, Mary seemed subdued and kept her gaze on the floor. Mr Bingley, still smiling, said, “Much as I would like to claim all of the credit, it was brought to my attention by Dar?—”
He was interrupted by Mr Darcy, who seemed eager to deflect any further praise. “Happy Birthday, Miss Mary,” he said with his usual formal tone. Felicitous wishes from all around were bestowed upon Mary. From across the room, Elizabeth caught Mr Darcy’s eye and mouthed, “Thank you.” His expression softened slightly as he nodded in return.
She drew her attention back to Mary, whose brows were furrowed as she remained oddly detached from the conversation and festivities designed to please her. Elizabeth’s cheeks heated at her sister’s rudeness and in a gentle, prodding voice, she said, “Mary, is there something you would also like to say?” She nodded towards Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley.
Mary looked up towards them without making eye contact. “Thank you,” she said in a voice devoid of any feeling.
Elizabeth sighed. Why is she behaving so ungraciously when Mr Darcy ensured a celebration for her? I can hardly blame him for the low opinion he holds of my family.
Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy appeared unperturbed and soon after, the breakfast began jovially, with laughter and conversation heard all around as the group indulged in the various culinary presentations.
As the breakfast progressed, Elizabeth noticed Jane wore a worried expression. “Are you well?” she asked quietly.
“Yes, I only hope we will be able to return home soon,” Jane responded softly. “I would like to know that Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are at Longbourn safely.”
Elizabeth gave her sister’s hand a comforting squeeze. “I am certain of it. They were supposed to arrive hours before the snow began to fall, and you know that Uncle is diligent about a timely departure.”
“Yes, I am sure you are correct. But even so, Mama must be so overwhelmed with the wedding preparations without me there to assist—it is only four days away now.”
“I am confident we will be able to return quickly.”
Jane nodded, looking more reassured, and Elizabeth rose and went to the sideboard for another pastry. Mr Darcy came to stand beside her with his plate.
“Will you join me in the library once you have finished your breakfast?” he asked.
“I—”
He added quietly so only her ears could hear, “There is something I would like to discuss with you.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, and remembering her vow to avoid his close company, added, “I wonder if you would like me to bring one of my sisters who might enjoy your suggestions of books to keep us occupied while confined at Netherfield.”
After what looked like a flash of disappointment, Mr Darcy quickly recovered, his expression shifting as he looked over her. “Very well. Of course, one of your sisters may accompany you.”
Pleased at her ‘victory’, Elizabeth’s response was interrupted by the clatter of a fork hitting the ground. She glanced over to find Mary in her seat, staring at her hand, where the utensil had presumably slipped from her grasp. The room fell into a hushed silence, the clinking of cutlery ceasing as all eyes turned to Mary.
“You cannot be clumsy on your birthday,” laughed Lydia.
“Are you feeling well, Mary?” Elizabeth asked, concern edging her voice .
Mary took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she appeared stricken. Elizabeth walked quickly towards her and placed a comforting hand on her back. Mary raised her own to her mouth and all the colour drained out of her face. “Please excuse me, I am feeling quite unwell,” she said abruptly, pushing her chair out, standing, and nearly running out of the room.
“Jane, come quickly!” Elizabeth cried. As she turned to ensure Jane would follow them, she saw Mr Darcy’s face painted with concern.
A short time later, Elizabeth wrung her hands together as she looked down at Mary. Her sister lay curled up in the centre of her bed, gripping the counterpane, still fully clothed in her day dress. Elizabeth exchanged a concerned glance with Jane. “I cannot believe she has fallen so ill, especially on her birthday,” she murmured as she leant down to stroke Mary’s arm. Jane nodded in response.
Just then, Mary abruptly sat up with her hand covering her mouth. Jane acted quickly and picked up a nearby basin and placed it on the bed. Elizabeth moved swiftly to hold back her sister’s hair as Jane laid a gentle hand on her back. After Mary finished retching, she continued hovering over the basin as her body trembled. Jane looked up at Elizabeth. “She is truly ill. I wish we had Hill’s special tea to soothe her stomach.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth responded. “Perhaps I should fetch Mrs Nicholls and see if there are any remedies available in the house. There could be some left over from previous tenants or servants. And Jane,” she added, suddenly realising Mary’s illness could spread, “you are to be married in a few days. You should not be too close to Mary.”
“I will tend to my sister,” Jane said firmly.
The two exchanged a look before Elizabeth slipped from the room. There, in the corridor, she nearly collided with Mr Darcy, who stood watching Mr Bingley as he paced anxiously.
“How does Miss Mary fare?” Mr Darcy asked, looking concerned.
“Is Jane well?” pressed Mr Bingley, his agitation evident.
“Jane is well, and attending to Mary, who is quite ill, but I am certain she will recover,” Elizabeth replied as she began to walk again.
Mr Bingley sighed with relief while Mr Darcy fell into step beside her. “How may I assist?”
She gave him a small smile. “That is very kind. But you need not concern yourself, sir.”
He touched her arm to stop her. “Miss Elizabeth, please?”
She stopped walking and looked down at his hand where it lay on her arm. He quickly dropped it and she drew her gaze back to his face.
“Well,” she responded, hoping the surprise she felt at his compassion was not showing in her expression. “If you insist. I was on my way to find Mrs Nicholls to ask her to bring us some remedies and cold compresses. Could you locate her with our requests?”
“Certainly,” he replied eagerly. “Please attend to your sister, and I will find Mrs Nicholls right away.” He turned and without another word, walked briskly down the corridor.
Elizabeth tilted her head as she watched him walk away. Confusing man. She gave her head a small shake and returned to Mary’s chamber where she found Jane still at Mary’s side, stroking her back. Much sooner than she expected, there was a knock on the door. Elizabeth stood and quickly walked across the room to open it. Standing in the corridor, she saw Mr Darcy with Mrs Nicholls in tow. The housekeeper carried a basket filled with herbs in the crook of her elbow and held a basin of cool water and cloths.
“Miss Elizabeth,” the old woman said kindly. “I was told your sister was ill.”
“Yes. Please come in.” Elizabeth shifted to make space for Mrs Nicholls to enter, while Mr Darcy remained in the corridor. Before closing the door, she caught his eye. “Thank you, your help is truly appreciated,” she said.
“I am glad I could be of service,” he replied as he held her gaze.
As she closed the door and turned to see Mrs Nicholls preparing compresses for Mary, Elizabeth thought of how Mr Darcy had attended to her as well. It was yet another layer to add to the complex portrait of the man. When he had unfeelingly cast her aside, she had learnt to be guarded and distrustful of men. Yet, here, witnessing his care for her sister, she could not help but think of his unexpected kindnesses. His subtle orchestration of breakfast for Mary was followed by his offering assistance while she was ill.
These opposing behaviours were at odds with each other and confounded her understanding of him. How could the man who once loathed her family to the extent of breaking off a near engagement now devote himself to her sister’s well-being ? Have I misjudged him fully or simply failed to see his hidden aspects? I once knew his gentler demeanour and thought it a lie, but is this tenderness truer to his character than I believed?
Determined to quell these thoughts, she remembered her resolution to marry Royce. Dwelling on Mr Darcy would serve no good purpose, she told herself as she picked up a dampened cloth to press to Mary’s temple. It would be best not to entangle herself with any more thoughts about Mr Darcy.
But what did he want to discuss with me privately?