Chapter 21
PARTICULAR CONCERN
At a certain point along the way, it dawned on Elizabeth that despite how urgently she wanted to speak with Fitzwilliam Darcy, it was of vital importance to speak to her father, for Jane had made it clear that she wanted Elizabeth to be the person who conveyed the news of what had happened to Mr. Bennet.
Hearing it from someone else would be the worst way possible for him to learn about the elopement.
Heaven forbid that he should receive this intelligence while he was with his friend, the older Mr. Darcy, whom Elizabeth knew to be more and more frequently in each other’s company of late.
Who is to say what measure the strain something of this nature might place on their friendship?
Elizabeth set off for the library, hoping she would find her father there, reading contentedly while surrounded by a number of tomes meant to divert him throughout the course of the day.
No doubt her news would be the means of abruptly ending their stay at Pemberley.
It was entirely possible that her father might insist upon the two of them packing their belongings and leaving Pemberley post haste.
There was also the possibility that her father might insist upon following his eldest daughter in the hopes of preventing a hasty alliance with a young man they barely knew.
Surely he would see the folly in such an endeavor. Why risk marring something that is otherwise, dare I say it, romantic and adventurous with the scandal of a heated pursuit? Jane is of age. Even if she had run off with a scoundrel, she is within her legal right to do so.
Only she did not run off with a scoundrel. Jane Bennet had made what all their friends and neighbors in Hertfordshire would consider an excellent match.
Yes, Elizabeth’s mother might at first complain of the injustice of it all - how she had been robbed of the prospect of having a daughter who was the future mistress of one of the finest estates in all of Derbyshire.
On the other hand, how soon her protests will be quieted when she learns that the young man who has married her daughter is handsome and agreeable and has five thousand pounds a year.
Now standing just outside the library, fashioning the words to say to her father to explain what all had happened during the night, Elizabeth prayed he would view what had transpired in a similar light as her mother most certainly would when she learned of the truth.
This is a very good thing for our family—a very good thing. How we manage things over the course of the next several hours and days will make all the difference in terms of how society, in general, will react.
Upon entering the library, Elizabeth’s eye immediately darted to the part of the room where she had taught herself to find her papa.
He was not there. Walking a bit further, she commenced looking side to side in hopes of finding him.
It was no surprise to her that the library was not teeming with people.
Other than her father and, of course, herself, Pemberley’s guests did not make very good use of the room.
She did on occasion espy the younger Mr. Darcy either in the stacks seeking his next reading escape or sitting by a large window, overlooking a garden deeply immersed in a book.
Thus it hardly came as a surprise to her to see him that morning.
His attitude, however, was completely altered.
He sat in his usual chair, both of his hands covering his face, his clothing in some disarray.
Perchance he has read Mr. Bingley’s letter already, she considered. Perchance that is the cause of his altered state. Her curiosity to find out what she did not know would not be repressed. She would speak with her father in due time, but first, she needed to speak with Mr. Darcy.
One tentative step after another led her to where he sat. His manner was so different—more akin to distraught. She called out his name to summon his attention, even as she was concerned that she might be one of the last people on Earth he wished to see.
“Mr. Darcy.”
He lowered his hands and in so doing, confirmed Elizabeth’s supposition that something was terribly amiss.
Is this the look of a betrayed man? She somehow sensed it was something more. Lowering his head, he spread his fingers over his eyes. He then stood abruptly.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said. Remembering himself, he bowed slightly. Throwing a cursory glance about the room, he said, “I suppose you are looking for your father. He is not here. He is with my father.” His voice was clearly affected and heavy with sorrow.
Tears she did not expect welled in her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Darcy,” she cried, “How can I make amends?”
He shook his head slightly as though he had missed a significant part of the conversation. “Make amends? Whatever for, Miss Elizabeth?”
She drew a sharp breath. “Sir, do you not know?”
At that moment, a footman entered the library and approached them. Bearing a silver salver, he bowed before the gentleman. “A letter for you, Sir.”
Mr. Darcy took the letter and with a slight nod of his head in gratitude, silently ordered the servant to be on his way.
He looked at the missive which from Elizabeth’s vantage point seemed very much like the one she had received from her sister — the greatest difference being that it was not nearly so pristine.
Frowning a bit, Mr. Darcy then placed the letter on the table beside him.
“Are you not going to read that, Mr. Darcy?”
“It is a missive from my friend Bingley. I believe it can wait. If I may, I wish to ask you again what was your purpose in saying you wish to make amends?”
“Sir, perhaps you ought to read your friend’s letter first.”
He gave the letter a cursory glance and then looked back at Elizabeth. “The letter can wait. No doubt, Bingley writes to tell me that he has gone off on some hastily conceived mission. It is just like him to decide on a thing in one breath and act on it in the next.”
Elizabeth felt the color spread over her body. Were she to judge by Mr. Darcy’s expression, he noticed it too.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “you look ill. Pray have a seat.” He gestured toward the spot next to where he sat moments earlier. “Shall I bring you a glass of wine?”
Sitting, she said, “There is nothing much the matter with me. At least nothing having to do with my health.” She could not help staring at the unread missive on the table.
“What is it about this letter that concerns you so?”
“Sir, I really do think you ought to read what Mr. Bingley has to say.”
Taking his place next to her on the sofa, Darcy reached for the letter.
“If it will make that much of a difference to you, I shall.” He tore open the seal and commenced reading.
Despite the blots of ink on nearly every line that were visible even from Elizabeth’s vantage point, Mr. Darcy read it without tearing his eyes away for even a second.
At length, he turned his head aside slightly, and holding the letter loosely in one hand, he massaged his temple using the other.
Drawing a deep breath, he exhaled audibly and then folded the letter and placed it aside.
Standing, he walked to the window and peered outside.
After a long stretch of silence, Elizabeth followed him.
He turned to her. “I am very happy for my friend and your sister.”
This was not the response she had expected to receive nor the words she had expected to hear.
Mr. Darcy said, “Their temperaments are so very much alike. I can think of no two people more suited for each other.”
His indifference astounded her. Jane’s words reverberated in Elizabeth’s mind: “—an equally honorable gentleman whose heart, I suspect, will never ever be touched? At least not by me.”
The colonel’s words echoed through her mind: “My cousin has remained a single man for so long as he has by design.”
“I fear you think I am heartless,” he said in response to Elizabeth’s silence.
“No, sir. I am simply confused. When I first saw you upon entering the library, you looked so downhearted. You said my father was with your father. I thought surely that something was terribly amiss. In fact, I know something is amiss. If not your friend’s elopement with my sister, then what is it? What is the matter?”
He bit his lowered lip as if contemplating what he might say in response to her bevy of questions. He seemed about to make a start, but then he stopped.
She reached out her hand to him. He seized it, giving her some indication that he wanted to tell her what the matter was, but he did not know how to tell her.
At length, he covered her hand with both of his. “Miss Elizabeth, I am afraid I have been harboring a secret that has to do with my father. You see, he is gravely ill. I have known this for months, having learned of the truth quite by accident. Even he did not know I was aware of his secret.
“His situation took a turn for the worse in the early hours of the morning, at which point I was summoned to his side. No one else knows that he is in the final hours of his life other than your father and George Wickham. I left my father some time ago with Wickham while I came in search of Mr. Bennet, who has since gone to my father’s bedside.
Soon, I shall have to speak with Georgiana to prepare her for what is to come.
Before you arrived, I was summoning my courage — searching for the right words to convey to her that our father—that he is dying. ”
Elizabeth retrieved a linen handkerchief from her pocket.
She reached up and gently dabbed a lonely teardrop falling from his eye.
How it pained her to see him this way. How saddened she was by his revelation, and yet how touching to know that he was confiding in her something so personal and so devastating.
Taking her hand, he brushed a light kiss across her palm.
“There is so much more that I would say to you, Miss Elizabeth, but I fear now is not the time.” He fingered an errant lock of her hair that had fallen across her face. “Thank you for listening to me. Now, I must speak with my sister.”
Elizabeth watched as the gentleman walked away, wishing there was something, anything she might say or do to ease his burden. Having never experienced the pain of losing a parent, she felt utterly helpless.
What am I to do? What am I to say?
She swallowed, fighting back her tears. In such cases as this sorry hardly seems an adequate word. Jane’s words reverberated in her mind once again: “I have no doubt that your courage will rise to whatever occasion that results, just as it always does during those times that matter most.”
As heartbroken as Elizabeth was, she did not intend to let her own concerns overshadow those of the people whom she had come to care for in such a short period.
She knew that she might soon be saying goodbye to the Darcys, but she was there now, and they needed her like no one had ever needed her before.
I must do everything in my power to be of comfort to Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy during this, their greatest time of need.