Chapter 10 #2
“Darcy, I found this,” he said, entering the make-shift study Darcy had organised.
It was furnished only with stacks of paper and two hard chairs, but it was all they had.
“I believe it is your wife’s hand, though I cannot know for certain.
I read only the greeting and brought it to you immediately. ”
Darcy took the letter, unfolded it, and read:
Fitzwilliam,
Be not alarmed, sir, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, which have been, of late, so disgusting to you.
I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, or by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten.
You must pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice.
I have been gravely offensive to you, though the nature of my offence, I know not.
Was my father correct? Was your infatuation with me merely lust that reduced itself to ash in our months at Pemberley?
Was my offence that I was not born high enough for you, a fact that became too obvious once we left the country for town?
You grew to disdain and despise me—this much was made evident—but whether it was for what I am or what I failed to be, I shall never know.
What I do know is that you vowed before God to love me, and you have done poorly at that.
I have loved you with all my heart, but now I shall stop.
Indeed, I must stop before it kills me. I shall go on, somewhere in a place where no one has ever heard of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I shall not again intrude upon your notice, so help me God.
Just know that you were loved wholly and completely with a maiden heart that knew not love before, and you threw it away.
I shall only add, God bless you.
Elizabeth
He stumbled back, her words dealing a blow that he could not have imagined. Wordlessly, he handed the letter to his cousin, who paled a bit when he read it but tightened his jaw and merely said, “Perhaps we shall find her with her family.”
Darcy nodded, already knowing it was not likely to be true but wanting to hope. “Let us return to London at first light. We shall stop in Hertfordshire.”
The gentlemen travelled to Hertfordshire, hoping rather than believing that they would find Elizabeth at Netherfield or Longbourn.
Bingley greeted them with a smile that suggested he had not told his wife any of what he knew; Jane Bingley looked as serenely delighted as ever.
Darcy groaned internally, knowing he was minutes away from unleashing pain and agony upon her smiling face.
When they were settled in the drawing room and the servants had been sent away, Bingley asked carefully, “Is Lizzy in London then? I had hoped we would see her with you.”
Sweet and guileless, Mrs Bingley exclaimed, “How I wish my dear sister had accompanied you. I simply long to see her!”
“I…I wish she was with me too.” Darcy dropped his eyes and cleared his throat. “Bingley…um, has…does Mrs Bingley—”
“Jane,” said Mrs Bingley warmly. “After all, are we not brother and sister now?”
“Jane,” said Darcy with as much of a smile as he could muster, “have you…”
“The tale is yours to tell, Darcy,” said Bingley. Jane glanced at him, finally seeming to perceive that all was not well. Her eyes turned from delight to curiosity as she looked to Darcy for answers.
He paused a moment to collect himself and then began, first, with the stories of their time in London, of the alleged rumours and the secret love affair of Elizabeth and George Wickham.
At this, Jane burst into laughter, raising her hand to cover her mouth. “What on earth! Who would say such ridiculous things of Lizzy?!”
Bingley patted her hand. “Loath as I am to admit it, it was our own sister Caroline.”
“Caroline! But…no. Perhaps she misunderstood…”
Darcy explained Caroline’s role in hiding the note and the handkerchief among Elizabeth’s things. Jane’s amusement turned to a flush of anger, sending her husband fierce looks of which Darcy could not have imagined her capable.
“She will never live under my roof again,” she hissed quietly.
“I shall never argue with you on that score,” Bingley promised, then took a moment to explain to Darcy that Caroline had been sent to Scarborough to stay at the home of their grandmother.
When Jane learnt that Lizzy had been sent to Yorkshire, it was worse yet. Tears came to her eyes, and she stared at Darcy with a cerulean gaze that pierced him. “Alone? You sent her off alone?”
“I…I did not wish Wickham to find her, and we thought she might… She is…with child. With…with my child.”
At this, Jane let out a small gasping sob, turning her face into her husband’s chest and weeping piteously.
“But as soon as they learnt the truth,” Bingley said with optimism, “they went off to retrieve her. Full of apologies and promises, I am sure, eh, Darcy? And where is our Lizzy now?”
Darcy looked down, rubbing his hands together, dreading telling them more. Jane had stopped crying and was looking at him with frightened, tear-filled eyes. He finally said, “I do not know. I had hoped to find her here.”
Bingley returned to his study over an hour later.
Jane had become completely undone at the notion that her dearest friend and sister had gone missing.
Bingley had carried his hysterical wife to her room and called her maid to give her something to help her sleep, and then he had held her in his arms as she sobbed herself into slumber.
Darcy looked at him as he entered. “Is Jane well?”
“I can take care of my own wife, thank you. I believe your efforts would best be directed towards worrying about your own.”
Darcy hung his head.
Fitzwilliam spoke. “Bingley, Darcy does realise the full extent of his error.”
“Perhaps,” Bingley said. “But what now? Can you imagine the manner of harm that might have befallen Lizzy by this time?”
At this, Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke, detailing for Bingley the various search efforts that were being undertaken, the planned activities of the professional men, as well as those of himself and Darcy.
He then asked Bingley whether he had any other ideas or possibilities they had not yet considered.
Bingley had none; Darcy and Fitzwilliam had laid out a thorough plan for the search.
Despite this, the three gentlemen spent the next several hours reviewing the schemes to be executed post haste and the scant clues and theories they had about her flight.
When Bingley’s curiosity was satisfied, there was a brief period of silence until he spoke. “It is difficult to comprehend you, Darcy. Did you ever love her?”
“How can you ask me that? You were here. You saw us falling in love.”
“I saw her falling in love. I saw you losing your wits. I think she was a plaything that delighted you until she did not.”
“How can you say so? We were…we were so happy until…until…”
“Do not think I forgive my sister her part. Indeed, I do not. But if someone played such a trick on me, if someone told me Jane was unfaithful, do you know what I would do? I would laugh. And then I would tell her of it, and we would laugh about it together. Jane is a beautiful woman, the most handsome I have ever known, and I do not doubt that every man we see longs to possess her. But she pledged herself to me, and I believe in the inherent goodness of her enough to trust that. You did not believe in Lizzy. You decided her character was false.”
“The truth of it is,” said Darcy, “I did not think much about her at all. I was too concerned with my fears and my past with Wickham. I was selfish. I was too quick to look upon her with disdain.”
“Where could she have gone?” Bingley asked, as much to himself as the other men. “Why not come to her family?”
Fitzwilliam said, “In Yorkshire, we learnt that the housekeeper…well, she believed she had charge of a fallen woman. She was thus not friendly for fear of her own reputation. I have no doubt Elizabeth knew of that prejudice against her, and the last thing she would wish is to bring that into her home county, to see her old friends and relations turn against her.”
A choked sound came from somewhere in the tight knot in Darcy’s chest. The other two looked at him and then just as quickly looked away. “Forgive me,” he said hoarsely, but he knew not whether he spoke to them or to Elizabeth, wherever she might be.
Knowing Elizabeth was not at Longbourn but understanding the need to speak to Mr and Mrs Bennet, they called there next.
It was a terrible meeting, with Darcy and Fitzwilliam gathered together in the sitting room with Mr and Mrs Bennet whilst the younger ones flitted about, talking of sons of earls and regimentals.
Darcy related the tale without any attempt to either defend himself or ameliorate his circumstances.
Mrs Bennet, as would be expected, immediately began to scream and weep, crying for her salts and demanding as much attention as she could.
As Hill bustled in to take her to her chambers, Mr Bennet said nothing.
Several minutes ticked by. Still, Mr Bennet said nothing, looking at Darcy with an unreadable expression in his eyes.
At last he spoke, “Mr Darcy, when you asked for my daughter’s hand, I told you that I felt you were both acting in haste.
When you prevailed over my wishes, I tried to reassure myself that you were an honourable gentleman and would make her happy.
“How deeply regretful I am to see that I am both correct in the former and incorrect in the latter. How much I do rue the day that my daughter laid her eyes upon you. Please leave my home now and importune my family no further.”
With that, he rose and exited the room. Darcy felt numb as Fitzwilliam led him from the house and back into the carriage.
When Darcy and Fitzwilliam returned to London, their immediate wish was to visit the Gardiners, with whom Elizabeth had been intimate.
Darcy prayed the entire way back to London that he might find her with them, or at the very least, that she might have written to Mrs Gardiner telling of her plans to depart Gunnerside.
Although his acquaintance with the Gardiners was brief, they had impressed him with their genteel bearing and the elegance in their manners. It was an awful task to go to them now and tell them what he had done to their beloved niece.
After admitting him and his cousin, the group adjourned to the sitting room.
Darcy knew Elizabeth had come to her aunt on at least one occasion for advice.
He remembered one day when he received Mrs Gardiner’s note informing him that Elizabeth had fallen ill and would stay in Cheapside for the night.
He had believed it was a cover for an assignation with Wickham.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner looked more than a little wary as they greeted the men, though their manners, as always, were impeccable as they waited for Darcy to explain the purpose of his visit.
The entire scene was reminiscent of what had occurred at Netherfield. He informed them that she was gone, and they told him that they had no notion of her whereabouts. Mrs Gardiner wept; Mr Gardiner was angry and demanded answers and plans.
By far, however, the most painful part was when Mrs Gardiner attempted to blame herself. “I am so sorry… When she came to me, my advice was poor. I am ashamed when I think—”
“No, no,” Darcy protested immediately. “None of this is anyone’s fault but mine.”
Mrs Gardiner was by now weeping earnestly. “If I had only come to you myself…”
It was her simple words that had the most effect of any he had heard thus far, as he realised in full how frightened and sad Elizabeth must have felt, blaming herself and not knowing what to do to make it right between them.
Mrs Gardiner’s anger he would have expected; anger, disdain, and disgust were all emotions anticipated by Darcy—and understood.
However, to receive kindness and an attempt to assume some of the burden of shame he so richly deserved was unexpected and doubly more agonising than Mrs Gardiner’s contempt could have been.
It was so painful that for a moment, it broke him.
Ashamed and embarrassed, he attempted to explain to these people who were so dear to Elizabeth that he had never, not even for one second, stopped loving her, nor had he ever regretted having her as his wife.
Over and over, he told them, “I cannot tell you how I regret my stupid pride. My cruelty! I have acted despicably and foolishly, and I am so, so sorry. Yet, although I own the error of my ways, it makes no difference. She is gone, and I do not know whether I shall ever see her again.”
It was then that Mr Gardiner mercifully terminated the entire interview, rising and telling the gentlemen that he must attend to his weeping wife, and he asked them to leave.