Love Unfeigned (Timeless Love: Darcy and Lizzy variations)

9. Chapter 9

Chapter nine

January 1812 Gracechurch Street Elizabeth

E lizabeth's latest letter came far sooner than she had anticipated. There were usually two or three days between missives, even when she replied immediately upon receiving one. This pleased her, and she took advantage of the particularly fine day to read her letter in the little park down the street from her aunt's house.

The cold months were not over yet. January always seemed long and dreary. The uncharacteristically bright sky cheered her and reminded Elizabeth that spring was only a few weeks away. She walked briskly; despite the sun, it was still chilly, and her speed worked to push away the chill. Soon she entered the park gate and made her way to a little bench she knew stood amidst the bare trees. It was secluded in the summer months, but the lack of foliage left it more open to the surrounding area.

Elizabeth settled on the bench, the stone like ice despite the layers of skirts and outerwear she wore. Her gloves made her fumble as she broke the seal on Mr. Darcy's letter. Humming happily, she began to read.

My Dearest Miss Elizabeth,

Your letter, as ever, arrives as a source of great pleasure. It is a rare gift indeed, to find one so perfectly capable of blending humor with sincerity, and wisdom with light-heartedness. I confess, I found myself smiling as I read your reflections on Georgiana’s music, and I would be delighted for you to hear her play in person. I shall, of course, leave you to be the judge of whether her talent is equal to Miss Bingley’s exclamations, though I imagine, should you grace us with your presence, you would find a way to do so most kindly, as always.

Your compassion for my sister moves me more than I can express. It is true that her heart was deeply wounded by the actions of someone she had come to trust, and though I would never have wished such a trial upon her, it is a comfort to know she has so many who care for her well-being. I have no doubt that with time, her spirits will mend, and I hope to see her, once again, filled with the lively confidence I know she is capable of. Your kindness in acknowledging her pain gives me hope she might one day find solace in the company of such a strong and understanding woman as yourself.

Your response to my questions of preference has, as always, captured my interest. How fascinating it is to hear that you favor the color green—an association I shall now forever attach to you, as it seems so fitting. Green, the color of life and renewal, and of someone who has always seen the world with an eye for its possibilities. I must admit that I too find the color pleasing, though my fondness for blue has never quite been eclipsed. As for apple tarts, I must say your taste in desserts does you great credit. There is something most comforting about the simplicity of a well-made pastry, especially when shared in pleasant company. I do hope, should we meet, we might share such a treat, though I suspect, knowing my own weaknesses, I would be quite tempted to take the larger portion.

As for your preference for cats, I must confess that I too find them charming in their mischievousness. Their independent nature, their quiet attentions, have always fascinated me. Though, I agree, there is something reassuring about the loyalty of a dog—perhaps that is a trait I hold in higher esteem than I should, but I trust you will allow me this small indulgence. A dog, for me, is a companion who offers a constant, unspoken understanding, even when words fail. I should imagine, though, that you, Miss Elizabeth, would possess a way of speaking to both animals and people alike, that leaves them quite content to be in your presence.

It warms my heart that you enjoy these more mundane exchanges as much as I do. For as much as our conversations have traversed deeper matters, there is a certain joy in these simple diversions, in learning about one another’s tastes and preferences. Indeed, I look forward to hearing more, as I feel it reveals as much about the heart as any profound discourse could.

And now, I must take a moment to share how pleased I am that you have expressed a desire to meet in person. It is a sentiment that I share but have hesitated to speak aloud. The opportunity to speak with you face-to-face, to see the spark in your eyes as you express yourself so freely and without any reserve, is enticing indeed. I have no doubt that such a meeting would be most rewarding, and I can only hope that we might arrange it soon. There are so many things I wish to say, and I find that my heart is full with the thought of sharing them with you.

With the deepest affection and the highest regard, Fitzwilliam Darcy

Closing the letter, Elizabeth already began composing her reply in her head. She had many questions she wished to ask and enumerated them as she held the missive in her hand. A little voice in her head reminded her of Mr. Darcy's treatment of Mr. Wickham, but she dismissed it entirely. She had, after receiving the news of Georgiana's disappointment at the hand of a friend, speculated that this was the source of the rift between Mr. Darcy and the scarlet-coated officer. Even if Mr. Wickham was not involved, the speculations had caused her to revisit her memories of the man's recitations. In doing so, she found many inconsistencies and began to doubt that he spoke the truth of the situation.

Returning to her aunt's house, Elizabeth hid the letters at the bottom of her writing chest beneath the velvet lining that had come loose years ago. It was bulging—she would have to find another place to conceal her illicit correspondence.

After securing the treasured bit of paper, she returned to the sitting room where her aunt and Jane awaited her. Mr. Bingley would arrive soon. He had plans to accompany them to Bond Street. Elizabeth felt great excitement. Beyond ordering two new gowns, she wished to visit Hatchard's. The novels she brought with her from Longbourn had been read and she wished to acquire something new to read.

"Back from your stroll?" Aunt Gardiner asked, amused. "I wondered how long you would resist. Though you hate the cold, you dislike being confined indoors more."

"How well you know me, Aunt!" Elizabeth grinned. "The air was brisk, but my walk was rejuvenating! I am ready to be poked and prodded as we are measured for new gowns."

The ladies laughed together. Elizabeth liked new clothing as much as the next lady, but she disliked being required to stand still for any amount of time. Their laughs turned to chuckles as the front bell rang, and they turned eagerly to greet Mr. Bingley.

"Good day to you all!" He came forward and bowed low over Jane's hand, placing a chaste kiss on its back. "You look beautiful, Miss Bennet," he said earnestly.

"Thank you, sir." Jane blushed a pretty pink. "You look very fine as well. I do so admire you in blue."

Mr. Bingley had wasted no time in requesting a courtship. After an interrogation by their uncle, the gentleman had been granted leave to call upon Jane. He made an appearance every day at Gracechurch Street now, his attentions more marked than ever before. Elizabeth gave him a week before he proposed.

Jane could not stop smiling. Her worn, drawn face had transformed, and the love she felt for Mr. Bingley made her more beautiful than ever. She radiated happiness, and her appearance shifted into something more stunning. No one could doubt her feelings now.

They left the house and boarded a respectable carriage. There were rugs to ward off the chill, and the plush cushions were comfortable. Mr. Bingley chattered away as the coach trundled along. Jane and Mrs. Gardiner listened raptly, but Elizabeth's mind wandered as she stared out the window, her thoughts on Mr. Darcy and the tender feelings for the man that were budding within her.

She did not dare dream of a future with him. It seemed like a fairy tale—men of his consequence did not marry the daughters of insignificant country gentlemen. Mr. Bingley was the son of a tradesman. Wealthy or not, his social standing was closer to Jane's than Elizabeth's was to Mr. Darcy's.

He is a gentleman. I am a gentleman's daughter, she told herself. In this, we are equal. Her words reassured her only a little. I shall feel better when I see him. But when that would be, she did not know. He seemed to be leaving the decision in her hands.

Was she ready? She did not know. The last time they had been in company, they had exchanged words. She had accused him of ungentlemanly behavior, and he had responded coldly in that stiff, severe manner he often employed. The memory made her blush in shame—oh, how she had misjudged him!

They arrived at Bond Street, and Aunt Gardiner led them to Madame Dubois' Premiere Modiste Shoppe. Elizabeth knew it to be a more exclusive shop, frequented by ladies of the ton and looked at her aunt in question.

As it so happened, Aunt Gardiner had made friends with the shop proprietress. "It is worth it to befriend those who purchase my husband's wares," she said mischievously.

After an hour of being measured and selecting gowns, Elizabeth finally convinced her aunt to allow her to go to Hatchard's. The bookshop was three doors down. "Take Jones with you," Aunt Gardiner directed.

Pleased to be done with the modiste shop, Elizabeth agreed and left with the footman.