April 20, 1812 #4
It was a dream. It had to have been. All of it: Bingley’s lot, Georgiana’s marriage to Wickham…Elizabeth’s love. I am the only one who remembers, the only one who was so affected. “William Fitzroy did not exist.”
But who is to say what is a dream and what is real anymore?
He leaned back and was swallowed by the feather pillows as he stared up at the intricate patterns of gold cherubs gracing the ceiling in his room.
He hated those cherubs. He hated this room.
It was the room Lady Catherine always prepared for his arrival because it was closest to Anne’s.
As much as he was disgusted by the routine machinations of his aunt, the schemes by his cousins left him jubilant.
Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, was here at Rosings.
She had moved into the Garden Room, a room which his aunt had redecorated for his own mother seventeen years before, a room which was only four doors down from his.
The irony of her placement in the house was not lost on him, and he was grateful for the work of his cousins and sister, although he was confident his aunt would find their actions reprehensible.
She was still set on him proposing to Anne and combining the two estates.
But, if there was one thing his dreams had taught him: I will do all in my power to constitute my own happiness without reference to others so wholly unconnected to me.
Darcy had never believed himself to be a man to do other’s bidding.
I am a man in possession of myself, my property, and my holdings.
I am not required to consider anyone’s wishes.
He hit his fist on the counterpane to emphasize his point as he sat up and ran his hand through his hair.
His removal from the parsonage had been against his wishes, although he knew he could not remain there forever.
He had told himself he had acquiesced due to the strain Lady Catherine was most assuredly placing upon Georgiana.
Yet was that in truth? Did he genuinely allow himself precedence?
How long had he avoided the issue of his alleged betrothal to Anne to keep the peace with his aunt?
How long had he avoided any communication with Anne, hoping to not give her false hopes?
You arrogant fool. Who is to say Anne ever desired your attention?
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rang for Briggs.
If your ability to judge the desires of women is based on the response from Elizabeth, you have misled yourself and wasted years in cravenness toward a cousin whom you valued as a friend.
Yet, ignoring that, you allowed her to flounder under the insatiable scrutiny of a mother who only wished to have her own desires without considering those of the principal parties involved.
In the last several days, he had lived a lifetime, and in that lifetime, he had learned what he truly valued.
And I will fight for what I value and want, no matter the cost.
The door opened, revealing Briggs with newly polished boots. “Yes, sir?”
“I would like to join the others downstairs.”
“Would you like your green or blue coat?”
“The blue,” Darcy said, standing, his limbs shaking with only mild protest. My strength is increasing.
I should be hale and hardy in the next day or two.
Walking across the room, he looked out the same window as the week before.
But so much had changed. I promise you, Elizabeth.
I will do all in my power to change your opinion of me and win your heart.
Anne de Bourgh glanced around the room, resting on her cousin Richard.
How real my dreams have been. A life without him would be unimaginable.
But that is what her life would entail if Lady Catherine had her say.
There was an awkwardness about the party.
Darcy was confused, barely maintaining his control under the surface.
But Miss Bennet? How strange. She is like a bird, ready to fly at any moment, avoiding Darcy at all costs.
She and Georgiana have played duets for the last three quarters of an hour.
And Darcy, like the rest of us, is puzzled as to her avoidance.
Anne’s eyes caught Colonel Fitzwilliam who shrugged. She quickly responded in kind, then turned.
“Are you well, Darcy? You have had quite a strained week.”
“I am well, only…confounded,” he said, observing his sister and Miss Bennet.
“I imagine you are. This is not the outcome I believed would occur when the invitation was extended.”
He shook his head. “There should have been no expectation for the invitation. I may have misjudged our recent conversations. She owes me nothing.” His voice was just above a whisper and was interrupted by Fitzwilliam’s thunderous applause at the final notes at the piano.
“Well done, you two. Now, come sit here. Georgiana, you will have a glass of sherry to celebrate your brother’s improved health.”
The ladies stood from the piano and laughed their way to the settee and chairs.
“Georgie, come sit by me. I want to hear all about your new Italian tutor,” Richard said, patting the seat next to him. “I think we are wasting your time on such a weasely, little man, but Darcy says he is the best.
“And Miss Bennet, do not sit in that chair,” the colonel said. “It needs to be recovered. Come, sit next to Darcy. I know he seems surly, but he is just out of practice in conversing.” Richard waited until everyone was seated before he exclaimed, “Now, are we not a merry party?”
Anne smiled, trying to ease Elizabeth out of her odd temper. “How do you find your rooms?”
“They are lovely,” she said with spirit. “The flowered paper is beautiful and remind me of the forest in springtime when the bluebells have sprung up in the woods.”
“They were my mother’s favorite,” Darcy said softly, obviously hesitant to startle her.
She glanced at him when Georgiana said, “And the desk was Mama’s. Lady Catherine bought it for her when she and father came to visit after they were newly married.”
“It was kept in the dowager house after Lady Anne died because it pained my mother too much to see it,” Anne said. “But she recently brought it back into the house and restored the room as it was before.”
“The whole room is lovely.” Elizabeth looked up again and quickly lowered her eyes at Darcy’s intense stare. Her cheeks pinked before there was a knock at the door.
“Come,” Richard said. His frustration at the lack of conversation was evident in his tone, and the footman was taken aback by the ferocity of the usually genial man.
“Pray, forgive the interruption, but a man from the parsonage just brought this for Miss Bennet,” he said, extending a package toward Elizabeth. “The maid found it behind a chest while dusting in one of the first floor rooms.”
“I do not recognize it,” Elizabeth said, reaching for the package.
“Maybe Mrs. Collins bought you a gift?” Georgiana asked.
“Should I open it?”
“By all means,” Richard said, before taking a drink of his wine and leaning over to Anne. “We must have some form of entertainment,” he whispered.
A nervous tittering came from Georgiana as Elizabeth began to undo the string of the package. “I cannot imagine what it is,” she said as her fingers moved to untie the knots. “Charlotte and I have not exchanged gifts since we were children.”
The paper fell away, and Elizabeth gasped while lifting the two white silk handkerchiefs from the package, both with ribbons embroidered throughout to form flowers, one pink and the other buttercream yellow. “But I…do not…”
“How lovely. They are from Madame Claudette’s,” Georgiana said reaching over to finger the fabric. I have a similar one with lavender ribbons with an embroidered D. Fitzwilliam bought it for my birthday.”
“But…there must be some mistake.”
“It had your name on the package, Miss Bennet,” Anne said. “There cannot be a mistake.”
“If I was a woman,” Colonel Fitzwilliam interrupted with a twinkle in his eye, “I would make excuses to cry just to bring it out and dab my eyes.”
“It is beautiful,” Elizabeth said, caressing the fine lace. “It is only that...it is so unexpected.”
As Elizabeth admired the elegant handkerchief, Anne noticed Darcy, who looked as if he had seen a ghost.