Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
A n overwhelming feeling of loneliness overtook Elizabeth on the ride to catch the post coach. She was ashamed of her behaviour over the last months and what it had wrought.
Was Mr Darcy merely a rake as Charlotte had implied? He had not behaved thus in Hertfordshire, but perhaps, as Charlotte said, he only acted so when he had an aunt behind him to cover up his indiscretions. But considering what he had implied about Mr Wickham’s behaviour and what she had come to understand of Mr Darcy’s own nature, it remained hard to imagine he would take advantage of young ladies.
No, she was certain they were unfounded rumours. They had to be.
It took many hours, but sometime in the middle of the night Elizabeth had reconciled herself to understanding that while his behaviour had been inappropriate, it did not change the fact that she had become attached to him—foolishly so.
Even as Charlotte had comforted her, she had a strong feeling that it was he—not Charlotte—who could be trusted; however, on some level, Charlotte was right. He had kissed her knowing he was promised to another.
Even if he shared her affection at one time, how could he continue to feel the same once he had time to consider all she had said in the glade—how she had so vehemently defended Mr Wickham and denounced his character? How could she have been so na?ve as to imagine the man would align himself with her? If possible, the misunderstandings only strengthened her resolution that Mr Darcy was the truest person she knew—but how could he know her current sentiments now? How could he discern them on the strength of a few pointed glances and half-hidden smiles? And what did it signify? He would never be hers.
But perhaps none of this had anything to do with her, with what she had or had not done. This allegiance was long-standing. She never had proof of its authenticity, but she also never enquired. She could forgive Mr Darcy this, as she understood the betrothal had been arranged in their youth. She could even be satisfied knowing his heart might truly lie elsewhere—with her—and, perhaps, that possibility would be enough to sustain her.
Darcy rode his horse hard that morning, frustrated that he had been unable to locate Elizabeth on any nearby paths. Would a little mud keep her from rambling about? He thought not. Her apparent desertion left his mind reeling.
He had not had a chance to speak privately to her since their shared kiss. Mrs Collins had determinedly steered Elizabeth around by the elbow after church on Sunday—speaking to all in the congregation but him. It had been plain she had no intention of letting Elizabeth converse with him.
The damnable rain had also deterred their morning strolls, and morning calls had only been possible twice due to the amount of business his aunt asked him to look into. There seemed to be a confederacy about him, all designed to keep him from her.
Fitzwilliam’s expression revealed he perceived Darcy’s irritability, but fortunately he did not know the source of it—for if he did, the teasing would be unending. Brooding, he had learned, was an expected mannerism of his, so no one took great notice when he exhibited it.
Perhaps he should not have encouraged his aunt to cease inviting the Collinses to dine on Sundays. Even if Mr Collins required Elizabeth to stay back at the parsonage, she may have enjoyed the peace and quiet. His cousin Anne, though, seemed intent on securing a friendship with Miss Bennet, and so an invitation had been dispatched to the party to dine that night. Only six more hours, he thought to himself. Even if he could not hold a private conversation with her at Rosings, he would fondly relish being in her presence.
At length, a footman entered the morning room to provide a note to Lady Catherine. Darcy quelled his vexation, knowing the vicar would undeniably follow that note forthwith. Surprisingly, it appeared, though, to not be one of the numerous notes exchanged between the parson and his aunt throughout the day.
“The nerve of that insolent girl!” Lady Catherine was immediately agitated by the contents written, scowling, with high colour appearing on her cheeks. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet has taken her leave of me in a note! After all I have done for her!” This prompted a tirade from her on the deplorable manners of the younger generation, during which Lady Catherine laid the piece of paper on the table next to her chair. It would be, Darcy hoped, forgotten; and soon enough it was, her ladyship sweeping from the room to consult her housekeeper.
Darcy moved to grab the note before a footman could collect it.
Hunsford Parsonage, Kent
April 15, 1812
My Lady,
I wish to thank you for your hospitality these five weeks in Kent. I travel today to be with my family and send my apologies for not being able to properly take my leave of yourself and Miss de Bourgh.
Respectfully,
Elizabeth Bennet
Darcy dropped the note. She was gone. When? Why?
More answers were required than were to be had in the very short missive. Darcy exited the room with haste and found the footman who had delivered it.
“You there! I believe you brought the message from the parsonage?” Darcy enquired.
The young man—Darcy believed he was called James—immediately snapped to attention. “Yes, sir. Mrs Jonas sends me various times of the day to collect any letters from the parsonage.”
“And the guest at the parsonage? She was there? Or already gone?”
“Miss Bennet was being handed into a gig when I arrived—to catch the post, I daresay. ”
Darcy nodded and waved the man away. A million plans and schemes tumbled about in his mind. He wished to go to her immediately but could not just turn up at Longbourn uninvited. No, he would have to travel to London to speak to Bingley right away about opening up Netherfield Park. It may take a fortnight, but he resolved it should sort itself out quickly.
A note was dispatched to her uncle Gardiner when Elizabeth’s coach reached the Bell in Bromley to change horses. She was relieved to have an excuse to stretch her legs. She hoped the note would arrive before her, and perhaps, her uncle might be waiting to take her to their home when she arrived in the city. She was three days earlier than planned, so she included a message that all was well. She had no interest in worrying her favourite relations.
The road to London carried families of all stations, and the stops along the way offered Elizabeth the opportunity to observe their accents, dress, and demeanours.
One lady attired in a particularly fine lavender silk gown caught her eye. Her dark black curls were pinned up in a singularly fashionable manner, and she had an air about her that spoke of great wealth. Elizabeth imagined her the daughter of an uncommonly grand gentleman, returning to town from their vast estate by the sea.
Elizabeth felt rather enchanted by her beauty until she saw the woman react unkindly to a footman. The young lady first looked around to see whether she was being watched before giving him a set down that shocked even Elizabeth. Though she could not hear all of what was said, Elizabeth deduced that he had retrieved the wrong trunk from atop their carriage. The lady’s pale skin turned an unattractive shade of purple as she pointed to the correct trunk to be lowered. The poor man nearly toppled down attempting to retrieve it for her. Setting it on the dirt, he was dismissed with a flick of her hand just as an older woman, presumably her companion, arrived to console her.
Elizabeth sighed. At least the young lady retained enough dignity to hide her immaturity when she believed she was being observed—that was more than Elizabeth could often expect of her youngest sister Lydia, who would traipse about Meryton shouting a ‘hallo’ to any handsome young man in a uniform who looked her way. The elegant young traveller’s mistreatment of those in her service was another reminder to Elizabeth of how utterly wrong first impressions may be.
Perhaps the young lady’s behaviour was common for some families. Elizabeth had witnessed Miss Bingley’s dismissive approach towards those in service at Netherfield, but then again, she had also once dined at the home of an earl who went to university with her father and had seen how kind and gracious those elevated personages had treated their household.
Behaviours and nuance fascinated her, and she continued her observations outside the busy inn until, at last, it was time to again board the carriage for the last stretch of her journey. She was thankful to have been provided a seat inside the coach for the long trip. The older woman seated beside her had an odd manner and spoke endlessly about her cat. She informed Elizabeth that he was a dignified little feline, named for the Prince Regent, and she longed for his company. She endeavoured to assure Elizabeth he was not some plump, spoiled animal. He was an agile thing who worked for his supper and was prone to keeping the mice from her kitchen. Elizabeth listened with kindness and appreciated the diversion.
Elizabeth imagined old Mrs Fitzgerald sitting on an overstuffed, excessively frilled settee with a thin tabby cat moving about her person and purring his great achievements. Why could people not be as easy to understand as animals?
Her companion fell asleep just as they entered bustling London. Mrs Fitzgerald’s lace cap fell slightly over her face, and as Elizabeth observed a slight smile on her slumbering face, she suspected the lady dreamt of home.
If only Elizabeth could find sleep so peaceful. The last night had been dreadful. She woke three times to find her bedclothes disrupted, a reflection of her perpetual, menacing dreams. Unfortunately, reality was nearly as dreadful.
Her future was unclear, and while it had been for as long as she lived, a foreign hope had taken root nonetheless—hope for something more, or rather someone more. To lose that future before she had a chance to embrace even her own feelings was devastating. And removing Mr Darcy from her mind was nearly impossible. During that dreadful stay, he had been her sanctuary. If only she had realised it sooner.
A sense of relief shuddered through Elizabeth as she spotted her uncle waiting for her upon the coach’s arrival in London. His smile was a breath of fresh air among the dirty, foggy streets of the city. She was welcomed into a warm and familial embrace—finally. For the first time in days, she felt secure.
“How is it that I find myself retrieving my niece from a coaching inn today? I thought you were to stay in Kent for six weeks complete? ”
“Can a lady not miss her family?” She smiled mischievously to cover her consternation in his perspicacity.
“Yes, of course, my dear, and I am glad to hear of it. You are most welcome! Your aunt will be delighted to see you.”
Elizabeth was nearly as excited to see her aunt Gardiner as she was to see her sister, Jane. Her entrance into their town home on Gracechurch Street was met with a roar of laughter and questions, as well as warm embraces—none so tight as the one shared with her dearest sister. With young cousins bustling around her, grabbing at her skirts and exclaiming in joy to see her, Elizabeth was quite out of breath with delight to be in the bosom of her family once again.
Before they could even sit down, Jane was at her side asking questions, while her aunt took the children up to the nursery. “Lizzy!” Jane cried. “How happy I am to see you! My dear uncle did not inform me that you were to arrive today. Are Mr and Mrs Collins in good health?”
“Yes, Jane. All in good health.”
“I am relieved to hear it. We were without a letter from you for nearly a month. I hope your visit was a pleasant one?”
To answer in the affirmative was not the truth, though the visit was not entirely unpleasant. No—Mr Darcy had created a fire of desire and joy within her that could be described as all that was pleasant, but the loss of him was considerably disheartening. But, where Mr and Mrs Collins were concerned, unpleasant was a keen description.
“I was fond of Kent, but I am overjoyed to be here with you.” Elizabeth saw her aunt return, and added, “As well as you, Aunt.”
Her aunt begged the two to sit down so she could serve tea. Then she delivered a plate of Elizabeth’s favourite treats directly to her hands. “Lizzy, your uncle and I were all excitement and concern when we received your note. I hope all is well?”
“Yes, although, London is a welcome change of scene,” she answered.
The three women enjoyed a merry conversation about the weather, the state of the roads, family, and news from Hertfordshire. Elizabeth was pleased to find some quiet time to rest before dinner. She lay on her bed and pulled the quilt up to her neck to savour the feel of safety and comfort. She thought she might even enjoy some sleep. Thoughts of the last time she felt at home filled her mind before she drifted off.