Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
D arcy made his way through the door of The Fox & The Ox long after sunset, his original bruises well on their way to healing and his new bruises far less punishing than the first.
He had been spending every moment of the past several days with Beech and the other pugilists, and felt…powerful. Agile. Able .
Well, more powerful than when he began, any way, even if he still could not best even the least experienced of his opponents. And certainly more agile, though he was still unable to avoid every blow as he sparred with the fellows in the warehouse.
But able . He was finally finding his footing and feeling he might possibly navigate this foreign place and all that it encompassed—the people, the food, the smells, the noises, the sights.
So what if he could only make out what was in front of him with one eye? He was able, and for that he was thankful.
When Darcy walked in, Sarah hollered out to him over the din, “Oy, Mr Seven!”
Darcy groaned. He would have to remind her that he did not wish to garner unwanted attention. Head down, he made his way towards her at the bar. She dug into her bodice, then smiled as she handed him a thick letter addressed simply to Number Seven.
“Smells like it is from a lady,” she told him in a sing-song voice with one raised eyebrow.
Darcy snatched it from her with a hurried thanks and a smile he could not repress, then practically sprinted up the stairs to his room. Sitting on the side of his bed, he opened the missive with trembling hands, eager to hear Elizabeth’s voice in his head as he took in her even, feminine script. The lines were crossed over and she still filled two sheets.
April 17, 1812, Hunsford Parsonage, Kent
Dearest Uncle,
I was so relieved to hear from you, sir. I am heartened to know you have settled into your new lodgings and that you and my aunt are safe there for now. The thought of wishing to contact you, and not being able to, weighed heavily upon me, but your kind letter has eased my mind.
I thank you, too, for enlightening me on the particulars pertaining to your dealings with our mutual acquaintance, W. I sincerely apologise for having made such terrible accusations in regard to that man. You will note I no longer use the term ‘gentleman’ to describe him. I thank you for enlightening me as to your history with him. Your account of his perfidy only echoes that of another gentleman, who apprised me of W’s attempts to ruin a respectable young lady, a girl who had trusted him from her youth. You cannot imagine how foolish I feel, having been taken in by such a snake. Can you forgive me?
You asked after the two gentlemen who are staying at Rosings, and I am sad to say that Mr Darcy has left us. I had assumed that the colonel was to follow him directly, but rather than going to town or to Tonbridge—which is where he claims his cousin is—he has stayed on at Rosings. Since Mr Darcy’s departure, he has been meeting me on my morning walks and, it seems, attempting to further our friendship. I believe he is seeking a disinterested confidante, for though he attempts to look unaffected by Mr Darcy’s absence, I can see that something is weighing heavily upon his mind. This is not surprising, as the spirit at the great house has deteriorated (if you can believe it possible) in the last several days. I can see that they are trying to behave as if nothing at all is amiss, but their affected nonchalance is unconvincing. Miss de Bourgh’s health has improved almost miraculously. However, along with gaining a robust body, she has apparently developed robust opinions as well and adopted a flippant air no one could have imagined her to possess. It is rumoured that she and her mother are heard arguing day and night, and Lady Catherine is at her wits’ end.
In fact, while I do not wish to distress you, I must tell you of a scene I witnessed at the great house. When we arrived for supper, Miss de Bourgh was wearing the most beautiful pendant on a long golden chain. As a connoisseur of jewels, I know you will want a full description, so I will enclose a sketch of the piece, for it was truly splendid. Two rubies, several carats each I am sure, one above the other, both surrounded by small diamonds. The bottom stone was larger than the one above it, and the whole piece shone so beautifully on Miss de Bourgh’s neck, one could not help but notice it. (When you look at the sketch, you will see what I mean. Have you ever seen anything like it?) As I was studying it, Lady Catherine asserted before the whole party that Miss dB had stolen it from none other than Mr Darcy’s mother, Lady Anne! What is more, Miss dB did not deny it, but instead made brazen claims that Lady Anne could not use it anymore, so why should she not have taken it? Can you believe it, Uncle? Have you ever heard anything so scandalous?
It seemed the only solace Lady C had in the affair was that her nephew was not there to see her daughter wearing it. Miss dB was sure her cousin would not recognise it if he were, but it is interesting that she did not begin to wear it until after Mr Darcy’s departure, do not you agree? Why would Mr Darcy’s recognising the necklace be such a source of anxiety for Lady Catherine? I cannot help but wonder what it can mean.
Meanwhile, not a day goes by that I do not learn something new of Mr Darcy’s benevolence, generosity, and strength of character. Uncle, I beg you will not think ill of me when I tell you that I believed that gentleman to be of a wholly disagreeable and self-conceited nature. I was convinced that he never deigned to give a thought to the welfare of others. And now, I am astonished time and again to find that, not only is he generous materially, but he is more generous in spirit than I could have imagined, even extending forbearance and outstanding kindness to those whom others might find completely undeserving. I judged him wrongly, and I confess I wish I had known the truth of his goodness before he left.
In fact, I find myself missing his company on my rambles at dawn. If only I had truly known the man walking beside me all those mornings, I believe my time here would have been much more agreeably spent.
As it is, my visit is ending in just over a fortnight. I am for Longbourn, though I do wish I might see you in Gracechurch Street when I pass through town. Perhaps our misunderstandings and miscommunications might then be truly resolved. Dear Uncle, I understand more fully than ever the honour of your offer of friendship, and I accept with all my heart.
Please tell me of your daily doings and give my aunt Gardiner my sincerest regards. I shall send this from the post office to keep it from prying eyes. Perhaps you could deliver your next letter through the post office as well? I shall walk there daily in hopes of receiving news from you. Until then, I remain?—
Your humbled friend,
EB
Darcy read every word twice, losing himself in her expressions of admiration. Elizabeth, the woman he loved, desired his friendship. She acknowledged that she had judged him wrongly. She sincerely regretted not knowing him better. She wished she could be here with him.
He worked to catch his breath, but there was no silencing his thrumming heart.
The things he had hoped to do before retiring to bed—obtaining another newspaper to ascertain whether the warrant for his arrest was genuine and washing his only pair of stockings in the basin to wear tomorrow—all other ideas dissolved into the air as one thought enveloped his mind and heart.
Elizabeth Bennet missed him.