Mrs. Bingley’s Sister (The Austen Novels)

Chapter 43

Elizabeth saw Darcy every day after that, and despite the family being in mourning, it was decided that it was not very necessary to wait until August to marry.

"Mourning periods are a family affair," Bingley said about it, "And I believe we have waited years for this match to come to fruition. Let's not delay it any longer. Please, by all means—marry next month, if you please."

Bingley had laughed quite heartily after speaking, but he was being quite serious, and since Jane expressed no offense to the plan, Elizabeth was more than willing to marry Darcy as soon as the banns were read. Everyone in the Bingley household approved of it, and eager they were to finally see Elizabeth become Mrs. Darcy.

"It is quite a romantic tale, I should admit," Lydia had remarked, "Eight years of pining after one another? The stuff of novels, I think."

But she smiled at Elizabeth and Darcy both when she said it, and she gave them their leave as she usually did. This was how things were done when Elizabeth and Darcy were accompanied by their most negligent chaperone. Elizabeth looked to Darcy after her sister had abandoned them and wanted to examine everything those eight years encapsulated.

"Lydia is right, you know," she said smilingly, "Eight long years of pining is something to be found in a novel. Tell me, how can you account for having fallen in love with me and then remaining so in love? And after such abysmal treatment I offered you at Hunsford?"

"Your treatment was not so abysmal as you say," he answered, "For what did you say of me, that I did not deserve? For though your accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behavior to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence."

"We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that evening," she said, "The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable; but since then, you and I have both improved in civility, I hope."

He laughed.

"Surely after eight years, we have." Then he looked more serious and asked, "What about my letter? Did it soon make you think better of me? I had wondered so many times over that first year since Hunsford whether you had read it. Especially when I saw you at Lizzy's christening..."

"I read and reread your letter so many times it is permanently smudged up, and every line of it committed to memory."

He looked on in amazement and said, "Truly?"

"Yes,” she said with a shy smile, “It made me love you."

He gave her a heartfelt look, but then furrowed his brow and said darkly, "When I wrote that letter, I believed myself perfectly calm and cool, but I am since convinced that it was written in a dreadful bitterness of spirit. There was one part, especially the opening of it, which I should dread your having the power of reading again. I can remember some expressions which might justly make you hate me."

She rushed to assuage his guilt by saying, "The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness but it did not end so. The adieu is charity itself."

And it was true—she hadn't deserved his God bless you at the letter's end, for it always made her heart heave. But she shook her head and steadied herself, saying to him, "But think no more of the letter. The feelings of the person who wrote and the person who received it are now so widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant circumstance attending to it ought to be forgotten."

He didn't answer this for a moment. She looked up at him and saw he was gazing out before them, a wistful expression on his face. She squeezed his arm slightly, gaining his attention as he looked back at her.

"The christening was uncomfortable, however," she said slowly, a strange smile overcoming her face at the recollection of such discomfort, "I was mortified that all I seemed to do was humiliate you further."

He shook his head with a funny smile of his own. "You still managed to muddle my senses at that time, Elizabeth. I thought you despised me still; I was understanding everything you had to say to me through such a lens."

"And what a horrid lens to view my words! My actions! Why, I wanted to say sorry to you for my abysmal behavior at Hunsford, but then when I set off to do so, I became acutely aware of how mortifying again it would be for you—so in the act of apologizing for mortifying you, I was giving you a second mortification."

Darcy let out another laugh at this, and he shook his head. "What an awkward time."

"Awkward, indeed. And I was surprised to see you again, not six months later, at Caroline Bingley's wedding! I am almost afraid to ask what you thought of me there. You blamed me for coming?"

"No indeed; I felt nothing but surprise, and an eagerness to see you, actually."

"Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you," she said, "My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I confess I did not expect to receive more than my due."

He smiled. "My object then was to show you, by every civility in my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past."

"Well, I was struck by you holding baby Lizzy back then—I could not help but picture you as a father, and it made me very sad."

He blushed. "Sad?"

"I had thought you were to marry someone else, of course."

"Oh, I see," he said, looking serious for a moment before adding shyly, "I, too, thought many a time, seeing you with baby Lizzy, that you were to be a wonderful mother, and it was also a bittersweet thought."

He paused before adding, "I wanted to tell you so, then. But Bingley and Jane arrived, and the moment was lost."

"I remember that, now,” she said, “But what was it that you would have said?"

"I would have told you that I was unwell, because I still loved you."

She felt saddened to think about how all of these years wouldn't have happened if they had been granted a moment longer together that time. She said as much to him, and he said, "Indeed; we could wonder all day what would have been, had things occurred a little differently."

They walked on a little more, Elizabeth at a wonder regarding what had been revealed. She still could scarcely believe it nor understand it. Leaning on his arm for more than usual support, she asked him more pointedly, "Were you about to confess to me why you never married Anne de Bourgh, that evening when you left Netherfield?"

She heard him inhale and release a breath before answering, "Indeed, I was. Once again, I thought Providence was preventing my saying to you what I wanted to say."

"Providence? Or just Bingley?"

He laughed, and she smiled, saying, "I am sure if we told him all of this, he might feel very badly about it."

Darcy shook his head and gave Elizabeth a look. "Do not burden your brother with such information. He did not know."

"I shall not, do not you worry," she said with a laugh, but then she asked him in a more somber tone, "Why did you never come back to Netherfield?"

There was no immediate answer. She spoke further: "Why did I have to wait three years before ever seeing you again? If you loved me all that time?"

He sighed. They walked on before he finally answered.

"Elizabeth, I had thought that, perhaps, it was never meant to be; that all the times I tried to speak my feelings, something would occur and keep us apart. So in truth, I had given up hope, and thus, I did not try. My feelings were still there, of course, but I had lost hope of ever having a chance...”

He trailed off, and Elizabeth knew naught what to say. Then he went further.

“And, there was also the fact that Anne had died. For a long time, I felt immense guilt over her death, because I had wondered if she had died from heartbreak, for my never marrying her. Lady Catherine often intimated as much, and so, to cope, I buried my feelings and thoughts of you for a time while I was at Rosings, while I was there helping Fitzwilliam become master of the estate. This took over two years to do, and I just worked endlessly, hoping to possibly quell the feelings of guilt over Anne, by not indulging myself with my longing for you.”

He said all of this very wearily, with a sigh. Elizabeth's heart heaved—she had never thought much about how Miss de Bourgh's death might have made Darcy feel. There was a silence between them, for how could she respond to such a revelation?

After some time, he simply said, "So I suppose, to answer your question, all I can say is that I had given up."

He stopped and turned to face her. "And for that, I am sorry. I am sorry for all the years I let go by without coming to you directly and declaring myself to you."

He turned, and they began a slow walk again. He went on softly: "I had thought about coming to Hertfordshire many times after I returned to Pemberley a year ago. But I was a coward; I allowed myself to be haunted by the reaction you gave me at Hunsford so many years ago, and that cowardly part of myself did not want to risk it again. The longer that time went by, the more I convinced myself that a rejection would be inevitable, that you would be disgusted by my behavior, my lack of consistency and turn away from me again—"

"Oh, no! I could never!"

He was silent for a time. She didn't know what to say. But then he spoke again:

“But then when Georgiana decided to host a Christmas house party, I knew I wanted you to come to Pemberley. I needed to see you again. I had no interest in anyone else; there was never anyone else but you. My feelings had never changed."

Elizabeth didn't have words for this speech, so she merely squeezed his arm a little more as they walked together. How sad she was to know of the anguish and feeling, and how grieved she was to know how closely they two had been to being united with each other, time and time again, long before now. It was incredible—but she decided not to focus on that. She looked up at him.

"You must know that I love you," she said softly.

And he stopped walking, looking at her with a significant, intense look of his. And finally, he kissed her. His lips gently pressed hers, and she kissed him back, happy to be in his arms. Their kissing started out slow and curious but quickly began to grow into something more passionate and heated. His hands were now around her, feeling the small of her back and moving up into her hair—her bonnet came off—and she found herself running her hands through his hair, knocking his hat off of his head as well. She felt him moan into her lips ever so slightly, and she felt herself being swept away into his arms, his lips continually pressed to hers, their bodies touching now—

A cough. They pulled apart fast, flushed and breathing heavily, embarrassed, and there was Lydia, who was already turning away from them.

"Sorry, my dears—Bingley caught me in the house and demanded I get back outside to chaperone. I assured him there would be nothing untoward, but I see now that you two have made a liar out of me."

She let out a laugh as she began walking away from them, toward the house, only stopping to turn her head and say, "Come along, now."

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, whose face was crimson but so handsome, and he smiled at her a little sheepishly as he bent down to pick up his hat and her bonnet. She replaced her bonnet and he his hat, and then, taking his arm, they moved to follow Lydia. Bingley was inside, giving Darcy a look, but otherwise, nothing else was said about it.