Chapter 24
FUTURE HAPPINESS
The unpleasant encounter with Charles Bingley’s sisters weighed heavily on Elizabeth’s mind.
Is this what my sister Jane is to expect? Jane who never thinks meanly of anyone.
At one time, it had appeared that the Bingley sisters, who no doubt had no use for Elizabeth, actually liked Jane. Alas, it was mere pretense, especially on Miss Bingley’s part and perhaps on Mrs. Hurst’s part as well.
Elizabeth could not fully gauge the latter’s real opinion on her brother’s marriage as she had not spoken a word during the altercation. How the two sisters could be so insensitive to what was taking place in the household, Elizabeth could not even fathom.
Perhaps, they are completely unaware of the elder Mr. Darcy’s condition.
Despite all of Miss Bingley’s boasting of enjoying such an intimate relationship with Fitzwilliam Darcy, Elizabeth always knew better.
He would have no reason to confide in the young woman. I suspect that had I not come across him in the library when I did and pressed him on his altered attitude, he would not have confided in me either.
The inevitability of losing a parent — the helpless feeling that accompanies the certain knowledge that it’s beyond one’s power to prevent — I cannot imagine how that must feel.
She wrapped her arms around her shoulders.
The refreshing outdoor air was such a balm for Elizabeth’s overwrought sensibilities, but each step further away from the manor house caused her to wonder if it would be better if she went back, perhaps to the library where her father may have returned from his bedside vigil.
Jane had written that she came to Pemberley unsure of what she was about, and she had taken her leave knowing she was fulfilling her destiny.
Everything happens for a reason, Elizabeth surmised, and she began to wonder if the true reason for their being there at Pemberley was so that her father might share with his old friend Mr. Darcy what were destined to be his final days.
Did his son plan it this way? Was this a grand scheme on his part — a final act of devotion to his beloved father?
She did not know what to think or how to feel if such were the case, but one thing was certain: she could not be angry with the gentleman should her suspicion prove correct.
She was certain that her father was better for the experience.
Although still a bit reclusive, she had observed that when he and his friend were together, her papa had always been particularly animated, as though he had recaptured some of the vigor and optimism of his younger days.
The thought that her father had yet to be told of Jane’s elopement and the possibility that he might not react to the news as favorably as she herself had then dawned on Elizabeth.
Heaven forbid that he should learn of it from that horrid Miss Bingley.
This thought was sufficient encouragement to redirect Elizabeth’s footsteps immediately in the direction of the manor house. A steady pace grew more and more urgent as a single thought mixed with dread consumed her. I must speak with my papa.
She arrived at the library and saw her father was walking about the room, his hands clutched behind his back, looking grave and anxious. “Lizzy,” said he, “I have been wondering where you were. Come, my child for we have much to discuss. Your sister—”
Feeling as though a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Elizabeth interrupted, “—So, you have heard the news about Jane and Mr. Bingley. Forgive me, for she wanted me to be the one to tell you.”
His countenance clouded, he responded, “Tell me what, my dear?”
Elizabeth drew a quick breath. “Oh! I thought you already knew. You see, Papa, Jane has eloped—she and Mr. Bingley are to be married.”
Mr. Bennet ran his hand across his silvery beard.
“This is an interesting turn of events. Indeed, a happy outcome. Although, I cannot pretend to be completely surprised the two fancy themselves in love, for not only have I seen the way that young man looks at Jane, I have seen the way Jane looks at him.”
“Regardless of how this may appear in the eyes of society, I am exceedingly happy for my sister and Mr. Bingley. I only regret not being so attuned to what was unfolding between them. I, who fancy myself such an astute studier of others, do not know how I shall ever forgive myself for being so obtuse,” Elizabeth said.
“There now, do not be so severe toward yourself,” he began, “some things a father knows best what his own child is about.”
“But Jane is my dearest sister,” Elizabeth cried. “I have always prided myself on knowing her better than anyone. It is as though I wished so deeply that she and Mr. Darcy were designed for each other that I would allow for no other possibility for my sister’s future happiness.”
“Ah, young Mr. Darcy. One only needed to have observed him the instant he rounded the corner on the heels of our arrival at Pemberley all those weeks ago to know that my beautiful Jane never stood a chance of winning his heart.”
“I, too, have been informed on more than one occasion that his heart would not easily be touched. I suppose I simply chose not to believe it, thinking surely if anyone stood a chance it would be Jane.”
“Did you indeed, my dear?”
Not knowing what to say in response to her father’s retort or even how to feel, Elizabeth sought to change the subject to the other pressing matter of the day. Her voice a bit unsteady, she said, “Papa, how is your dear friend, Mr. Darcy? Is he—”
“I fear the end is near,” he said, his tone sober. Taking his daughter by the hand, Mr. Bennet said, “His children are by his bedside as we speak.”