22. Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
February 1812 Darcy House Darcy
D arcy half-expected to find a letter from Elizabeth waiting for him the next morning. But, alas, the only missives in the post were from his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, imploring him to visit Rosings for St. Valentine's Day, and an invitation from Lady Matlock to dine next week.
Aunt Catherine's letter was very amusing. So humorous he found it that he went to the parlor, determined to share it with his sister. Still chuckling, he read it aloud.
Nephew,
I trust this letter finds you well, though I do not doubt that you have been busy, as usual, with matters of lesser importance than what truly deserves your attention. It is high time you remember your duty to your family and to the future of this estate, which, as you well know, must eventually be entrusted to my daughter's future husband. You will, no doubt, fulfil this obligation with honor and commitment.
I hereby inform you that you are expected at Rosings Park for St. Valentine’s Day, which, as you must understand, is a most fitting occasion for reflection on matters of the heart, particularly those that concern the future of our family. I insist upon your presence at dinner on the evening of the fourteenth, where we shall discuss matters that are of utmost importance to us all. Your attendance is, of course, not optional. I trust you will find the time to pay your respects to your aunt, and to your betrothed, as is your duty.
As you may recall, since your infancy, it has been understood that Anne, my daughter, and you are to be united in marriage. This proposal, which has been discussed in every circle of our acquaintance for years, is not something to be taken lightly. I remind you that Anne’s health, her composure, and her future happiness have always been linked to your regard, and it is now high time you acknowledge what has long been determined as the best course for your respective lines.
While you are at Rosings Park, I expect you to bring with you suitable tokens of your affection for your betrothed. It is no longer acceptable to treat this matter with the indifference I have observed on your part. I trust you will have the decency to present her with an appropriate gift that reflects your esteem. I shall leave the nature of this gift to your discretion, though I have no doubt that you will be capable of selecting something fitting for a lady of Anne’s position and virtue.
As for your continued reluctance to fully commit to the arrangement, I must remind you that this is no trifling matter. It is a matter of family, of duty, and of ensuring that fortune and family line remain as they always have been. You owe it to your late father, to my dear departed sister, to me, and to Anne, to fulfill the obligations placed before you. No more excuses, no more delay. This union is inevitable, and I trust you will act with the seriousness and consideration it deserves.
I expect you here on the appointed day, and I will look forward to your bringing Anne the proper token that signifies your commitment to her, to our family, and to the preservation of the Darcy family's standing. Let us not forget the importance of this occasion.
Yours faithfully, Lady Catherine de Bourgh
They laughed merrily at their aunt's presumption. This cradle engagement existed only in her mind—not even Lord Matlock thought the marriage would come about. Anne neared the age of five-and-twenty and would inherit Rosings Park in her own right at that time. Arrangements for his niece to take complete control of her estate had been made by Lord Matlock years ago. Aunt Catherine knew nothing of them, of course.
This was likely the reason she pressed him with more fervency than ever. Richard had often speculated as to their aunt's motives. "If she merely wished to preserve the family lines, why not have our cousin marry me?" It made sense. Richard was a second son and in need of a fortune. The truth was that Lady Catherine wished Anne to marry Darcy so he might whisk his bride away to the north, leaving her in control of Rosings Park.
"I am afraid I have another engagement on the fourteenth, Aunt," Darcy said, still chuckling as he tucked the letter into his pocket. Georgiana agreed and together they finalized the list of tokens Darcy needed to acquire before the appointed day.
His letter went unanswered the next day as well. And the next. By February 13th, Darcy was in full panic. Had something happened to Elizabeth? Had he erred in some way? What had occurred?
The answer came from an unlikely source. Bingley showed up the day before St. Valentine's Day, interrupting Darcy as he paced his study. All his business had been completed, and he was at sixes and sevens as his thoughts inevitably turned to Elizabeth.
"Darcy! You look dreadful. What is the matter? Are you ill?" Bingley strode in without being announced. He looked happier than Darcy ever recalled, and for a moment, he wished to banish his friend and his good cheer from the house.
Bingley sat in a chair next to the fire and put his feet on a stool. "Bad night?" he asked. "I know how you feel. Caroline is doing her utmost to ruin my engagement with Miss Bennet."
This caught his attention. "You proposed?" he asked.
"Yes. She accepted me, and we have her father's blessing. Darcy, I have never been happier in my life! To think I almost let her slip through my fingers."
"I am very pleased for you." In truth, he felt jealousy. If only I could call Elizabeth mine, he moaned. "Likewise, I am very sorry your sister is causing mayhem."
"Do you know what she did?" Bingley cried, pulling his feet off the stool and sitting up. "She followed me to Gunter's, where I planned to meet Jane and her relations. She imposed herself upon our gathering and then told the group—" he pitched his voice up to imitate Miss Bingley—"'How very…surprising…to see you all here. Together. Charles, when did you learn Miss Bennet was in town? Mr. Darcy tried to keep you too busy to discover her presence.' Rather, it was something of that nature."
Bingley chuckled humorously. "Goodness, I wanted to strangle her! Jane looked devastated. I do not plan to invite my sister to the wedding—in fact, I believe I shall follow through with my idea from the other day and not tell her until the deed is done."
Darcy was no longer listening. Miss Bingley's words repeated themselves over and over in his head. This is the answer, he thought. It had to be! He knew Elizabeth very well now—she would have seen it as a betrayal of trust learning that he had at first attempted to keep Bingley from her sister. But that was so many months ago—before— before the letters. Before he fully comprehended and acknowledged that he was completely and inextricably in love with her.
"If you will excuse me, Bingley, I have just remembered some business that cannot be delayed." He would write to her, beg for her understanding and forgiveness…
"Yes, of course." Bingley stood. "I have taken a lease on a town house down the row from you. That is what I came to say. I shall invite you to dinner next week." Without another word, Bingley left, whistling a merry tune as he went.
Darcy rushed to his desk and pulled a piece of paper towards him. There was no time to delay.
Dearest Elizabeth,
I find myself in the most disquieting state as I write these words to you. The past few days have been an unrelenting torture of uncertainty. I confess, after two days of silence from you, I feared the worst—some illness, or a family emergency, perhaps. Yet, my natural inclination to hold back from intrusion kept me silent. I reminded myself to be patient, knowing that whatever the cause, it was surely not for lack of affection on your part.
But then, as if fate itself were conspiring to break my heart, Mr. Bingley called upon me today. With his presence came an explanation I had not anticipated—an answer that, while clearing some fog, has only deepened the sorrow that has plagued me. It was then, hearing from him of Miss Caroline Bingley’s actions, that I realized the great mistake I had made.
As I reflected on our last interaction and the painful silence that followed, I felt such regret, but none so poignant as for what I failed to see and share with you at the time. Miss Bingley’s cruelty, which has so long tainted her words and actions, once again reared its ugly head. The incident in question—the one I thought had been resolved in the past—had I known its true weight, would have changed everything.
You see, I was convinced, erroneously, that your sister's affections were cold and that her reasons for not accepting Mr. Bingley were born more from your mother’s urgings than from any true feeling on her part. It was this that caused me to follow him to town in November and prevail upon him to stay. He was persuaded to my way of thinking, which, unfortunately, united with that of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. He was miserable, but he believed our suppositions and did not return to Netherfield.
In my misguided attempt to shield Bingley from any further disappointment, I conspired with Miss Bingley to keep your sister’s presence in town from him, certain it would only hurt him. I see now how wrong I was, and how much unnecessary harm that assumption has caused. Had I not attempted to read your sister’s heart, or so fiercely believed in my own better judgment, I would have acted differently, and perhaps we would not now be facing this sorrow.
As I learned later, after receiving your letters, my error became so painfully clear. I immediately sought to remedy the situation and wrote to him, though I discovered, too late, that Bingley had already learned the truth and sought your sister out, clearing the way for their reconciliation. When Miss Bingley learned of this, her bitterness only grew. There seemed to be no need to bring the situation to your attention. And yet, my silence, I fear, may have prolonged your pain, and for that, I am most deeply sorry.
I did not tell you of the matter at the time, and that omission weighs heavily upon my conscience. I know that I cannot undo what has already been done, nor can I make up for the pain that my silence may have caused. However, I beg you to understand that my actions—though misguided—were born from a desire to protect and to preserve the happiness of those I care for most. Had I been more open, more candid, we may not have had the misunderstandings that have haunted us both.
If my failure to speak sooner has contributed to the return of the sentiments you felt last autumn, I ask you now to tell me plainly, and I will accept whatever consequences may come. But if, perhaps, you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I would ask for that chance, Elizabeth.
I must confess, my own happiness now depends on hearing your response. I shall wait for you tomorrow at the place we agreed, where I hope you will meet me, and if not, I will have my answer, and know at last whether all my efforts to atone for my missteps have been in vain.
With all the love I possess, and a heart full of hope,
Yours, Fitzwilliam Darcy
He could do no more. Sanding and sealing the letter, he summoned a footman, giving him directions to see it delivered at once.