Chapter 12
TWELVE
OF CONSTANCY AND STEADINESS OF CHARACTER
Mr Darcy did not call on the day following their excursion through Cheapside.
This was no surprise, for it was the Sabbath and she imagined his gentlemanly customs forbade him calling on a lady on Sunday.
What did surprise her was how much she wished to see him and how many times, as she sat by Jane’s bed, she wondered what he was doing and where he did it.
Or how many times she wondered whether he would come again or if, after further contemplation, he recognised the futility in the situation.
What is most important, she decided, is that dear Jane is showing some improvement.
The fever was abating, slowly, but surely.
Elizabeth helped Mrs Gardiner’s maid give her a bath and change the bed linens.
Jane was dizzy, and the entire ordeal exhausted her, but Elizabeth knew it always felt better to have had a nice bath.
“This does feel so much better, Lizzy, thank you.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth answered, plumping her sister’s pillow before helping her settle back into the bed. “And…how are you feeling otherwise?”
“Otherwise?” Jane asked, her eyes already drifting closed.
Instead of answering directly, Elizabeth allowed her hand to drift over her sister’s midsection. Jane’s eyes immediately opened, and her eyes met her sister’s.
“I cannot think of that now,” Jane whispered. “I cannot.”
“All will be well,” Elizabeth told her. “I promise. It will be well.”
Jane’s look turned sly. “Because of Mr Darcy?”
“Mr Darcy? You must have had some sort of laudanum dream,” Elizabeth teased gently as she arranged the blankets round her sister.
“I have had a great deal more laudanum than I should have,” Jane owned. “But I do not think I imagined that he had called here? Did he bring you back from Kent?”
“Yes he has, and yes he did,” said Elizabeth.
She had finished her ministrations to the coverlets and perched on the edge of Jane’s bed.
She had plaited Jane’s hair for her and reached over to smooth an errant lock from her forehead.
“I did as you asked in your letter and took him into my confidence on the matter of his friend. He is determined to be of use to us.”
“I am relieved to hear it,” Jane said.
“As we suspected, he did have some hand in persuading Mr Bingley to remain in London this winter. Of course he did so having no idea of the truth of the matter.”
“Is that the only reason for his determination?” her sister enquired. She had begun to blink long in a manner that revealed her tiredness. “I should think not.”
“Perhaps not,” Elizabeth replied. Then after a beat, she admitted, “The evening before I returned, he came upon me in Charlotte’s parlour, having read your letter that day. I was sitting before a blank sheet of paper, trying to contrive some plan or another for you. He had come to…to propose.”
Jane’s long blinks immediately ceased, and she was suddenly alert. “Propose?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “He says he loves me. Even amid this scandal he…he wants me to marry him.”
“Oh Lizzy! What did you say?”
“On the night in the parsonage, he never actually proposed. I was…distressed when he arrived, and it rather turned everything on its head. Since that night, however, he has continued in his assurances that all will be well, and has also maintained that he does wish me to be his wife.”
“Pray do not feel you must on my account,” said Jane, her eyes wide and full of alarm. “I know how much you dislike him.”
“In fact…” Elizabeth paused a second. “I am not sure I do dislike him. I am certain I have misunderstood him, to be sure, but now that I do understand him better, I think him a very agreeable man. There is a comfort in a man who does not hesitate to help you in a time of need.”
“There is,” said Jane. “But I pray you would not make a marriage for it.”
“I do, in fact, feel a sense of obligation. He is…he is very ardently pursuing Mr Bingley and absolutely intent on seeing you married to him.”
Jane pushed herself into a seated position. “That is all well and good, but I would not have you sacrifice your whole life for me.”
“I do not think it would be so much a sacrifice,” Elizabeth said softly.
“Indeed, I begin to see that we have an…affinity for one another that would do us well. I could come to love him, I think. And in any case, as he has told me himself, Mrs Darcy, and Mrs Darcy’s family, would survive a scandal far better than the Bennets could. ”
Jane looked down at her hands. “I despise myself for putting you in such a position. Pray do not. Send me to the Magdalene home; it is what I deserve.”
The notion of that jolted Elizabeth. That was the choice she faced, was it not? She could marry Mr Darcy, and her sister would come through the fire…or Jane might be lost to her forever. When imagined in such terms, it was an easy enough choice.
“In any case, having given his help as he can, he may reconsider his feelings for me anyhow,” Elizabeth said.
“We will have to wait and see. But right now, all I wish is for you to vanquish this accursed cold so that when Mr Bingley does arrive to propose, he is not greeted by a stuffed nose and watery eyes!”
On Monday, Mr Darcy was there at noon. Elizabeth had heard that no one of fashion in London would dream of calling earlier than one, but there he was an hour earlier.
She was in better looks this time. Mrs Gardiner had quietly urged her, around ten, to submit to the ministrations of her maid and had sent one of the housemaids up to press a clean gown.
Elizabeth received him in the parlour, where Mrs Gardiner was already present with no sign of intending to leave. She had, Elizabeth noted, put on one of her better morning caps. Elizabeth gave her a fond roll of the eyes which Mrs Gardiner answered with a demure wink.
They settled into a small sofa by the window with little ceremony. Mrs Miller had already brought in the tea service, and Elizabeth prepared him a cup, learning he liked it with only a small drop of milk.
“How does your sister do today?” he asked.
“She slept through the night without the cough disturbing her.” It was still strange to say something good and believe it. “And she has gone so far as to consider a piece of toast. We are counting it for good.”
“And you? Did you sleep well?”
“I had a little bit,” she owned. “We were very quiet at home yesterday, so I daresay I am as caught up on my rest as I need to be.”
He accepted this without pressing her. Mrs Miller entered and enquired of Mrs Gardiner whether she should bring in some refreshments, and Mrs Gardiner cast an eye at Elizabeth to ask. She, in turn, looked at Mr Darcy.
“I am never backwards to being fed,” he admitted with a small smile. “But alas, I cannot linger very long. I wished to ask, Mrs Gardiner, whether I might escort Miss Elizabeth to the theatre this evening. My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, my sister, and her companion will accompany us as well.”
“I thank you,” Elizabeth hastened to say. “But I could not possibly—”
“Why not, Lizzy?” Mrs Gardiner asked, her eyes ostensibly on her sewing. “I do not think anyone said you were required to be constant at Jane’s bedside. You just said yourself she seemed to be on the mend.”
“Slightly improved,” Elizabeth protested. “If she is on the mend, it is only the first step in what is sure to be a mile.” She turned to Mr Darcy. “I am sure it would be a delightful evening, but—”
“But nothing.” Mrs Gardiner gave Elizabeth a look. “I love my niece as a daughter of my own. Would I let any harm come to her in the few hours it would require for you to enjoy London a little?”
“Of course not,” Elizabeth said.
“Jane will undoubtedly be asleep through whatever few hours are required to enjoy an evening at the theatre. She will not notice your absence, and she will not suffer from it. You, on the other hand, will benefit considerably.”
Elizabeth looked at Mr Darcy, who had tactfully remained silent through this discourse with her aunt. When he perceived her notice, he offered, “Kemble is performing in Hamlet in Drury Lane.”
She turned back to her aunt. “Aunt, would it be possible for me to speak privately to Mr Darcy for just a few minutes?”
Mrs Gardiner showed every sign of wholly misunderstanding her niece. She hid her smile while she gathered up her sewing and left the room with promises to return quickly.
Elizabeth turned to Mr Darcy. “You must know why me appearing in society with you, to say nothing of your young sister, ought not to be done.”
“I am afraid I do not?” Tilting his head, he said, “Do you still dislike me so much that an evening at the theatre is too much to be borne?”
“No! That is not it at all,” she exclaimed. Then she lowered her voice. “But you know what it is. Jane may be recovering from her cold, but there are problems more significant to come. Mrs Gardiner knows nothing of any of the ruination that lies ahead for all Bennets.”
“It will not come to that,” Mr Darcy promised. “I know that for a certainty.”
Elizabeth leant close. “Any house which boasts a daughter in the family way with no husband, not even any suitor, will be sunk. None of us will ever marry, and to even be associated with us—”
“Is a risk I am willing to take.”
“For yourself perhaps, but your dear sister? It would be unconscionable of me to permit it. I would ruin her reputation before she was even out. It will not do.”
“If I require Georgiana to stay home, will you go?”
“No-o,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Why should she be made to suffer?”
“I do not think it will be any cause for great suffering,” he said. “She really does not care for Shakespeare.”
“If I know anything about girls of her age, I should imagine it would be less the Shakespeare and more the opportunity to put on a pretty gown and be out and about that compels her regardless.”
“And a lady of twenty or one-and-twenty? Does she, too, like to put on a pretty gown and be out and about?” He studied her and, after a moment, shifted closer to her on the couch.
She still held her teacup and saucer, and he removed them from her hands and placed them on the table in front of them. He then took her hands.
“I know you do not love me. I have come to hope you might like me, at least a little, but above all, I want to ask you to do one thing.”
Elizabeth found herself staring at their joined hands. His thumbs were caressing the backs of her hands, a light caress that was somehow deeply enticing. “What?” she whispered.
“I need you to believe in me. One way or another, I mean to make Bingley marry your sister. The Bennet family will not be sunk. Your reputations will survive this.”
She sighed. “But he has already refused, has he not? Impugned her good name and ignored the truth of things in favour of his own interests?”
“He has,” Mr Darcy acknowledged. “But there are still ways a gentleman might settle such things, to prove his point in defence of a lady’s honour.”
There was something in the way he said it that made her look up sharply. “You do not mean—”
“I can say no more than that.”
“You must not,” she said immediately. “Pray, do anything but that, sir. People die in duels, and you are needed, here.”
“I will not die,” he said dismissively. “Nor will I kill Bingley.”
“You cannot know that,” she said, her voice raising. “If you choose to duel, you will risk—”
“There is a risk of me being run over by a carriage on the street, too, but I am sure you would not suggest I never leave my house, yes? But regardless, perhaps you ought to come to the theatre with me tonight, so that what might be the last night of my life is in the company of a charming and lively young lady whom I admire.”
He said it teasingly, but she felt a bolt of alarm. “Do you mean to duel him tomorrow?”
With a wry smile, he said, “Pistols at dawn. Or at least I suppose it will be pistols; Bingley is useless with a blade. The code dictates that it is to him to choose.”
Elizabeth’s stomach threatened to turn itself inside out, and she shot to her feet. “No!” Folding her arms over her chest, she stamped her foot. “I forbid it in every respect!”
He sighed and motioned to her to sit again. When she did, he said gently, “It is too late. The summons has been issued, or likely is being issued even now by Fitzwilliam who will second me.”
Her throat tightened, and she felt like she might sob.
Tomorrow this time, this man before her might cease to exist, and if the worst happened, it would have been on her behalf.
Tremblings and flutterings overtook her, and her voice shook as she reached out and caressed his face.
“Please do not do this. Surely there is some other way?”
He turned his head and kissed her hand on his cheek. “Yes, there is,” he said. “An apology and the offer to make amends. I do not doubt for a minute that Bingley will choose to do so when he sees that I am serious. But enough of that. Will you indulge a man in an evening at the theatre?”
Thoroughly benumbed, Elizabeth nodded.
“Excellent,” he said and then named the hour at which he meant to return for her.
When he had gone, Elizabeth ran upstairs to the bedchamber and tossed herself onto the bed. The relief of tears was quick to come and equally quick to go as Mrs Gardiner hurried in. “Lizzy? Darling, what is it?”
Elizabeth sat up, sniffling. She took her handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her face. “Nothing.”
“Such a storm does not hint at nothing!” Mrs Gardiner peered at her closely and put one arm around her consolingly. “Did you quarrel with Mr Darcy?”
She shook her head. “No, in fact, these last days have been the least I have quarrelled with him in the whole of our acquaintance.”
“Why did you not want to go to the theatre with him? He pays you a great compliment, you know. You do comprehend—”
“How rich and how great he is? Yes, I know.” Elizabeth sighed. “What I did not know was how good and kind and…and gentle and sweet and…all manner of other things he is.”
“But you do not want to go to the theatre with him?” Mrs Gardiner sounded bewildered.
“I said I would go, but you are correct, I have no wish to do so.”
They sat in a short silence until Mrs Gardiner sighed and then stood.
Very briskly, she said, “Well, I am very glad you will go. Let us look in the trunk to see what you might wear.” She walked to where Elizabeth’s trunk was sat and then added, hopefully, “Perhaps you might see this scoundrel Bingley and persuade him to call on your sister.”