Chapter 52
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
“ O h, Lizzy, who would have thought things would end in this happy manner?”
“Not I, I assure you,” Elizabeth agreed. When she had left for Kent, she had felt only dread at having to spend the entire spring season in her abhorrent cousin’s company. She certainly had not foreseen falling so deeply in love—not with any man, much less Fitzwilliam Darcy.
How much had happened!
“I saw you penning a letter earlier. Did you truly send it express?” Jane asked, breaking into her reverie.
“Oh, that,” Elizabeth said, suddenly abashed, “I sent word to Papa, requesting that he return an express authorising Uncle Gardiner to act on his behalf.”
“To have the authority to grant Mr Darcy permission to marry you?” Jane was clearly impressed that Elizabeth had taken such initiative.
Elizabeth nodded, biting her lip, then both girls broke into a cascade of giggles that built on itself and broke down all the worries and anxiety that had been building up in Elizabeth’s person all these weeks.
Their laughter died on a long sigh, and Elizabeth knew it was time to tell Jane the less gladsome news she carried.
“Jane,” she began, squeezing her dear sister’s hand in an effort to strengthen herself. “Darcy heard from Mr Bingley recently.”
Jane’s countenance became serious, her eyes urging Elizabeth to continue.
“Mr Bingley has…that is…he is…” How could she say it? How could she break the heart of one so pure, so good, so constant in her affections?
“He is now attached to a young lady with ten thousand pounds called Miss Haversham?” Jane asked without emotion.
“How long have you known? Why did you not tell me in your letters?”
“I first heard it from Miss Bingley a little over a fortnight ago. After having neglected me for months, I had assumed our connexion at an end. However, it seems she could not refrain from gloating over her victory, for as soon as her brother had made his suit known in society, she raced here with the sole purpose of informing me.”
“I am so sorry you had to hear it from her. How it must have pained you!”
“That is what Miss Bingley had hoped for, I am sure, but in truth it did not. In the many weeks I have been here, not only have I been cheerfully distracted by our small cousins, but I have had much time to reflect. As I said before, Mr Bingley had made me no promises. And, as much as I had wished for his devotion, when I looked back upon our interactions, I could see none.”
Elizabeth hugged her sister close, so proud of her for her fortitude in the face of what Elizabeth had thought would have been desperation.
“Your concern is appreciated, but I promise you, completely unwarranted. It has been months since the thought of Mr Bingley has caused me even the slightest wince of anguish. In fact, London has been so diverting, I have not thought of him in ages!”
Elizabeth looked deeply into her sister’s eyes, sure that she would find some hint of artifice which would contradict her claims, but there was none. Jane was really and truly free of Charles Bingley.
And Elizabeth could not have been happier.
“What do you mean, it is Rosings? Fitzwilliam! Speak! ” Darcy begged, unable to wait another moment to discern the reason behind his cousin’s thunderstruck expression. Fitzwilliam, who had been staring at the document in silence for far longer than the reading of it should take, finally answered.
“It is Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s last will and testament,” he said. “He left everything to Anne to inherit upon reaching her majority. But, Darcy, he made a provision that, should Anne die before producing an heir or should she be incapacitated and unable to manage the estate, it all devolves upon… me . Irrevocably.”
Darcy could not find the words to sufficiently express his joy at this change in Fitzwilliam’s circumstances. Instead, he shot from his chair and slapped his cousin on the back with rather undignified hoots of congratulations. Fitzwilliam stood at his approach, and accepted Darcy’s manful embrace, his eyes still wide with disbelief.
He was aware that Uncle Lewis had long held the colonel in high esteem, even bragging about Fitzwilliam’s stalwart resolution to make his own way in the world while watching everyone around him be handed everything by virtue of nothing but birth order. His dignified response to life’s injustices had truly impressed Sir Lewis. Their uncle had expressed little confidence in his daughter’s longevity, as sickly as she was, or her ability to run the estate, and it was evident he was glad to hand the reins over to a young man he admired so.
It is Rosings, Darcy thought. It is Rosings, indeed.