Part 3 #3
“Of course I remember her from your letters. What a surprise! Shall we go now, or do I have time to change first?”
“Let us go now, if you do not mind. I told Miss Bennet that we would call, and she expressed her delight at the prospect of making your acquaintance.”
“Miss Bennet is here?” Bingley asked unexpectedly, appearing by Darcy’s side, his voice incredulous. “I am sorry for imposing, but I overheard you talking and recognised the name…”
“Yes,” Darcy replied, looking about; it seemed that Miss Bingley and the Hursts had already gone inside. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, with her uncle and aunt.”
“Ah, I see… I would like to see her too. But perhaps she has no desire to see me again.”
“I have reason to believe she would be pleased to see you also, Bingley. If you want to join us, let us go at once.”
With a timid and thoughtful Georgiana and an animated Bingley, Darcy drove the phaeton to the inn.
As they approached their destination, his heart pounded, his palms sweated, and his knees weakened.
He responded absently to the greetings and welcomes from the people of Lambton and walked up the inn’s stairs towards the parlour with the nervousness of a schoolboy.
No, that was not true; he had never been so nervous when he was a schoolboy.
“Mr Darcy! This is a surprise!” Elizabeth exclaimed as the maid announced them. Her cheeks coloured and her enchanting little smile from the previous day returned.
“Miss Bennet, please allow me to introduce my sister, Georgiana. Georgiana, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
With a tightness in his stomach, Darcy watched the two women most dear to him curtsey to each other, Elizabeth’s smile warm and Georgiana’s shy, a picture that melted his heart just when he had lost hope that it might ever happen.
They exchanged a few words, then he asked Elizabeth’s permission to allow Bingley to enter.
The Gardiners arrived at the same moment, so introductions and more greetings occurred before they all settled in for a rather lively discussion.
Darcy heard little of what was said; the conversation ran from music, to Pemberley, their travels, and what they enjoyed most—Derbyshire and the Lakes or stately manors; but to him, all that mattered was Elizabeth’s charming countenance, her smiles, her kind gestures towards Georgiana, and her friendly chatter with Bingley.
She seemed slightly discomposed, but she was definitely pleased with the visit. What more could he hope for?
On an impulse, seizing the opportunity, he intervened in the conversation somewhat abruptly.
“Mr and Mrs Gardiner, Miss Bennet, my sister and I would be honoured if you would have dinner with us at Pemberley before you leave Lambton.” As he spoke, he wondered whether his voice was truly trembling as much as it sounded to him.
He was relieved when Mr and Mrs Gardiner immediately accepted, while Elizabeth glanced at him several times; she was silent, but the sparkle in her eyes was enough of an answer.
It was decided that the dinner would take place in two days, and Darcy wondered how such a little thing could bring him so much joy.
“Since Mr Gardiner will join us for fishing tomorrow, I was wondering whether Mrs Gardiner and Miss Bennet would like to have tea with my sister,” Darcy insisted, surprised by his boldness. Was it too much? Was he being too demanding?
“That would be wonderful,” Georgiana supported him. “If you have no other fixed engagements, of course.”
“No prior engagement would make me miss the opportunity to have tea at Pemberley,” Mrs Gardiner replied with a large, dreamy smile, and the matter was settled.
The visit did not last long, but its significance was life-changing for Darcy, and he could not think of anything else as they returned to Pemberley, nor could he remember a word of what Georgiana and Bingley had been talking about.
In only an hour, he had taken so many steps towards a reconciliation with Elizabeth, steps she seemed desirous to accept, though he feared he might be assuming too much, hoping too much, expecting too much.
Even so, his joy, carefully concealed from Miss Bingley and the Hursts, could not be silenced by the voice of prudence.
At dinner, Darcy pondered whether he should talk to Bingley and reveal the full story involving Miss Jane Bennet.
After some reflection, he did not feel composed enough to open such a conversation, and as selfish or cowardly as such a decision might have been, he decided to postpone it for a few more days.
He could think of nothing but Elizabeth, with delicious anticipation of seeing her again the following day, if only for a short time, and then once more at dinner.
She would be in his home, this time as his guest, and he would be there to welcome her properly.
On the second day after his return to Pemberley, Darcy’s turmoil gave way to joy, his despair to hope, his dark mood to a light heart.
While the gentlemen were fishing, Elizabeth and her aunt came to call on and have tea with Georgiana.
Despite his reason and every rule of decorum, he left his companions by the river and returned to the house to spend a little time with the ladies.
He was aware he might embarrass Elizabeth, that he was exposing himself to knowing smiles from Bingley and Mr Gardiner and malicious comments from Miss Bingley, but nothing mattered enough to prevent him from seeing Elizabeth, even if only for a few minutes.
The worst he expected came to pass, as the spiteful Miss Bingley made every effort to offend Elizabeth, managing only to discompose and hurt Georgiana instead.
Darcy wondered how long he would be forced to bear that impolite, arrogant woman for the sake of his friendship with Bingley.
He had his little, yet satisfying, revenge when he replied to Miss Bingley that he considered Elizabeth the most handsome woman of his acquaintance.
That admission, together with his previous declaration about Elizabeth’s fine eyes should have been enough to silence the woman on that subject. If only…
If torment and pain had kept Darcy awake most nights in the last four months, his present happier thoughts were no more helpful to his rest. When he finally calmed down his enthusiasm a notch, sleep avoided him still.
He rose from his bed, wearing a smile on his face, pulled out the card from the drawer, brushed his fingers over it, then took the pen and wrote on the third flap:
No longer alone.
He looked at those three words for a moment, then took up the pen again and almost crossed them out. It was not a reality yet, only a hope, but it felt almost as strong as a certainty.
The next morning, he would call on her at the inn—just to see her, just to be near her, because he could not stay away. If there were other wishes behind his sudden decision, Darcy did not dare acknowledge them yet. But when he climbed back into bed, after many sleepless months, he finally rested.
The next day, Darcy rose in an excellent disposition and dressed and prepared for what should be a wonderful, unforgettable day before anyone else awoke.
Elizabeth and her relatives would come to dine at Pemberley!
Anxious, delighted, so impatient that even he found it silly, he desperately counted how many long hours there were till dinnertime.
After breakfast, Bingley and Hurst went fishing again, the ladies were amusing themselves, and Darcy proclaimed he had a matter to be resolved in Lambton.
Before anyone had time to enquire further, he left Pemberley at a gallop, still uncertain why he had made that improper and sudden decision to call.
What would he tell Elizabeth? What pretext would he find for the Gardiners to explain his visit?
His thoughts were unclear, but his heart was light and drove him towards the only thing that mattered.
At the inn, he enquired after the Gardiners and was told they had just stepped out but Miss Bennet was in the parlour.
Alarm and eagerness mixed in his mind, making him hesitate briefly.
He remembered the dreadful results of his last private conference with her, when she had been alone at the Parsonage.
He had learnt his lesson, of course, and his intentions were utterly different now, though his desires remained unchanged.
Was it proper to call if she was alone? It was a public parlour, but still…
But could he miss the chance of seeing her, if only for a moment?
He asked the maid to announce him, then he waited, nervously, to see her little smile in welcoming him and perhaps a soft pink in her cheeks.
He took only one step inside and froze at a heartbreaking image: Elizabeth’s eyes were filled with tears, her face pale, her lips trembling.
She rose and hurried towards where he stood just inside the door.
Upon reaching him, she whispered, her voice rough with tears and the effort of fighting them to speak, “Forgive me, Mr Darcy, I have not a moment to lose. I must find my uncle and aunt immediately. It is a matter of the greatest urgency…”
The tears had overcome her, muffling her words. Shocked, he grasped her arms, halting her.
“Miss Bennet, you cannot go anywhere in your present state. I shall send a servant to find the Gardiners immediately. Come, sit for a moment. Can I fetch you something? Are you hurt? A glass of wine? You look very ill!”
She reluctantly sat, and he took a chair in front of her, still holding her arm.
“I am well. I need nothing but to find my uncle and aunt. We must leave immediately. I am unharmed, but a tragedy in my family…”
She began to sob, glancing at him, then averting her tearful eyes and wiping her face with her damp handkerchief. Only then did he notice the piece of paper in her hand.
“Would you please tell me what has happened? How may I help you?” he asked gently.
“You cannot…nobody can…everything is lost… I just received a letter from Jane, with the most dreadful news. My youngest sister Lydia…she has abandoned her friends in Brighton and run away…eloped…with Mr Wickham.”
“What? How is it possible?” he asked, and her tears intensified.
“She wrote to my sister Kitty, proclaiming that they were in love and had gone away to marry at Gretna Green. She thought it was so romantic. But you and I know it cannot be true. We know what sort of man he is…we know he would never marry her… I cannot even imagine why he would care about her…”
Darcy dared not reply as he knew she was correct. Wickham would never marry unless he had something significant to gain from the affair.
“It is all my fault,” Elizabeth cried, her words choked by sobs.
“I trusted him…I considered him a friend until I found out the truth… If I had revealed some of that truth…if I had said only a little, to warn people about him without disclosing too many details… But now all is lost…Lydia is lost, we are lost…it is all too late…”
“It is my fault, not yours,” Darcy whispered, but she failed to hear him.
He struggled to listen to her desperate sobbing and painful revelations without pulling her into his arms, as every fibre of his body demanded.
He wished to comfort her, to assure her there was no need for such suffering, but she would certainly not believe him.
He wished for nothing more than to hold her in his embrace, to soothe her grief and dry her tears, whispering that he would see that everything would be well…
But he had no right to do such a thing. Any gesture of tenderness—which he longed for—would only distress her more.
“May I ask whether their present location is known? What has been done to find them?”
“Papa and Colonel Forster are searching for them. They have tracked them as far as London but no farther. Jane asks for my uncle’s assistance.
We shall leave immediately, and I hope my uncle will be able to help my father, though I cannot imagine how.
Even if they are found, how will they convince him to marry Lydia? What is to be done with such a man?”
There was nothing Mr Bennet or Mr Gardiner could do with Wickham; Darcy was well aware of that.
He could have done something about the cur himself, long ago, but he had been too lenient, too forgiving, much more than Wickham deserved.
The fault for everything that had happened with Lydia Bennet was his, and he felt strongly that he must at least try to remedy the situation.
His main inducement was Elizabeth’s peace of mind, but even without her, Darcy could not allow Wickham to do as he pleased any longer without being held accountable.
To him, finding Wickham would be relatively easily, as the scoundrel had no money and few places where he was accepted. And Mrs Younge must be aware of his whereabouts.
Impatient, restless, with all sorts of thoughts spinning in his head, already sketching a plan, Darcy stood abruptly; immediately, Elizabeth did the same. Her tears had dried, but her lips were trembling, and her eyes had lost their sparkle.
“I wish I could tell you that all will be well, but I know words have little value now,” he whispered.
She tried to speak, but her words were barely coherent; she begged him to excuse her and her relatives to Georgiana for not attending dinner, and pleaded with him to keep the secret for as long as possible.
“You may depend on me, Miss Bennet,” he said. “Now please excuse me. I must leave. I fear I have stayed too long, and you have long desired my absence.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, and their gazes locked for a brief moment.
The sorrow in her eyes was so obvious that he required all his self-control not to embrace her. The only way he could help her at that moment was by separating from her once more, praying they would meet again soon under circumstances that would revive her smile.
When Darcy left the inn, he spotted the Gardiners returning, but he departed in a hurry; there was no time for pleasantries, and they were about to receive dreadful news in any case.
At Pemberley, he informed only Georgiana, Bingley, and Mrs Reynolds that urgent business required his immediate presence in town. He left his home that afternoon, carrying with him only a small case, the card in his pocket, and the image of Elizabeth’s pained expression from the moment he left her.