Chapter 32
Endings?
“Are you well, Eliza?”
The cart bumped and swayed along the road. They were making their way back to Hunsford.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, giving Charlotte a half smile.
It was the middle of the day with bright sunshine around them and the chirping of cicadas in the grassy knolls. They were traveling much faster than before. Elizabeth fixed her gaze outside the window. There was not a single cloud in the sky.
…by early evening, they reached the parsonage.
That was when her tribulations truly began.
First, it was Mr. Collins.
He was so incensed about what Charlotte had done that he forgot himself for a while and berated his wife in front of everyone, including the cart driver. And then he berated Elizabeth. She must have been the bad influence on his biddable wife!
Then, Mr. Collins dragged them both to Rosings, presenting them to Lady Catherine as if offering up lambs for a sacrifice.
The lady—not being one to throw away any opportunity to terrorize and dominate—did what she did best: attempt to subdue such ungentlewomanly behavior.
She was especially displeased with Elizabeth. For, who was she—a wholly unrelated person to her family’s great stature—to meet Darcy before her own daughter could?
Of course, Colonel Fitzwilliam was not spared in her rebukes. But since the man had not chosen to return with them to Hunsford, he, at least, was spared the incessant thumping of Lady Catherine’s staff on the floor and the barrage of her vitriol.
They were questioned quite thoroughly after that.
Where was Mr. Darcy? What was his condition?
What happened after he woke up? How much laudanum was he being given?
Dr. Goodman could not possibly be a good physician if he had chosen to give Darcy that little laudanum!
Mr. Hanson—Miss de Bourgh’s personal physician—would have never allowed such an oversight!
How could they have traveled all that way without enquiring the name of the village!?!
Elizabeth bore it all in silence and terse replies.
She did not care what Lady Catherine—or Mr. Collins for that matter—thought of her. She knew they were ridiculous. But she feared that life would become difficult for Charlotte once she left for Longbourn.
…because that was what was decided in the end.
That she was to go.
After all, Lady Catherine, in her superior wisdom, knew it was best if Miss Elizabeth Bennet went home straightaway. All the better to keep such unrelated persons out of matters wholly unconnected to them!
But, of course, Elizabeth was not to go straightaway.
There were letters that needed to be sent.
First, to her Uncle Gardiner in London—to send a carriage to convey her to the Gardiners’ home in Gracechurch Street. It was always the plan, and Mr. Collins did not see why he needed to spend money on hiring a post to rid himself of such an incriminating presence in his house!
The other letter was addressed to her father at Longbourn, complete with Mr. Collins’ blistering recommendations on how to take one’s daughter in hand.
After all, if Mr. Bennet had done so from the start, Miss Elizabeth Bennet would not have turned him down in marriage—how preposterous!—and would have had the benefit of Lady Catherine and his guidance to prevent such undutiful and scandalous undertakings!
Mr. Collins ensured Elizabeth—and everyone else—knew the exact contents of his letters by reading them aloud during breakfast the very next day.
He wished them to know that he had burned the midnight oil to accomplish said task.
All because he believed it was his duty to Lady Catherine and the reputation of his household!
He also wished them to know that he would not stand for his dear, innocent Charlotte being spirited away into the night. Never again!
And so it was only natural that two days hence, Elizabeth found herself once more alone with Charlotte with a big pot of tea between them.
Her plot to escape her friend’s scrutiny had failed.
“Eliza, something is troubling you,” Charlotte said, sitting down on the long settee beside her. “Will you not tell me?”
Elizabeth stared at Charlotte for a moment.
Thoughts flew through her head.
And then…
—all of a sudden—
…the dam she had built inside to hold back all the distress of the last few days finally burst.
She turned away instantly as a rush of tears began to fall down her eyes.
“Oh dear!”
Charlotte tried to draw her into a hug but Elizabeth resisted… before she allowed herself to be wrapped in a tight embrace. She tucked her face over Charlotte’s shoulder.
“Oh, Charlotte… I do not know…” Elizabeth said, through her tears. “I think… Mr. Darcy does not… he does not remember anything!”
Charlotte rubbed her back softly. “My dear girl.”
Elizabeth felt as if her heart would split in two. She hugged Charlotte tighter.
“I do not know why I care so much. If I even should,” she said in a rush. “What a wretched thing this is! I wish I had never met him!”
“Shh… shh… all will be well.” Charlotte stroked the back of her head.
“You will not believe this, Charlotte…” she said after a bit, her voice suddenly stronger. “But, for all that effort to write Miss Darcy’s letter, I left it behind in Mrs. Ronald’s cottage.” Bitterness flooded her mouth. “I forgot all about it!”
“Shh… shh…”
“All I could think of was how Mr. Darcy looked at me,” Elizabeth said. “As if I were some lukewarm acquaintance come to extend unwanted wishes. Some great interloper…”
“My dear, shh… that cannot be true. Only Lady Catherine would say such a thing,” Charlotte said. She patted Elizabeth’s back. “I am certain Mr. Darcy was pleased to see you.”
“Oh, Charlotte, you do not know…” Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut as more tears streaked down her face. “You should have seen how Colonel Fitzwilliam was watching me. As if all his suspicions had been confirmed. Oh…”
The two friends sat in that manner for the longest time.
But once Elizabeth’s tears dried, Charlotte promptly handed her a cup of sweet tea. It had lost most of its warmth though. “I shall have Janet bring us a fresh pot.”
Elizabeth simply drank down the entire cup in one breath. She was parched.
“Here, have some more,” Charlotte said, filling the cup again and adding another generous helping of sugar to it.
Elizabeth winced. “Charlotte–”
“Just drink it, Eliza. You will see.”
It was awful. Too sweet. Too cold. But Elizabeth did feel better afterwards. Enough that when Charlotte returned to her seat after instructing Janet, she said what was truly weighing on her heart.
“Could you write to Colonel Fitzwilliam about the pages I left behind?” Elizabeth asked. “I do not think he will bother with anything I send. And Mr. Darcy’s physician… Dr. Goodman said that he may not live…” She twisted her fingers into fists. “I do not want… all that effort to be for nothing.”
Charlotte looked at her kindly.
“I will do it.”
Elizabeth nodded and fixed her gaze on her hands as they rested over her knees. Her eyes were prickling again.
“Then… I believe all shall be well.”