Chapter 23 #3
Three days after the wedding, the Gardiners and Mr Wilson returned to London. Before their departure, Mr Wilson asked for a private conversation with Elizabeth and invited her to take a stroll.
“Elizabeth, I cannot leave without asking what I can do to bring the smile back to your face.”
“I am not certain what you mean, sir.”
“Yes, you are. And I can only guess the reason for your distress. I shall not apologize for anything I have done. I believe my actions were just and well deserved towards whom they were meant. But I unwittingly afflicted you in a way that I could not foresee. Your sadness pains me, and I know I am responsible for it.”
“You are not, sir. You take too much upon yourself. However circumstances might affect one’s life, it is one’s duty to behave in a way that remedies and improves the situation.”
“I tried to speak to Darcy, but it was hardly the place and time. I hoped he would stay longer.”
“As did I,” she confessed.
“What…is he…may I dare ask the cause of your obvious dissension?”
“He accused me of betrayal,” she said spitefully.
A grimace changed Wilson’s face. “Surely, that cannot be true.”
“Perhaps not in those words. But he suspected that I pretended a friendship in order to help you accomplish your plan.”
“That is witless,” Wilson uttered.
“It is more painful than witless,” she admitted. “Once he felt you had deceived him, he might easily suspect I did the same. But I hoped he would trust me more. I hoped he would sense the truth...”
Emotions overwhelmed her, and Wilson allowed her time to compose herself.
“One thing I have learned in my useless and adventurous life is that, the more a man feels and the stronger his sentiments and sensations are, the more powerful his doubts become, especially if he was proved wrong and was rejected in the past.”
Elizabeth glanced at him and said nothing.
“My dear girl, keep in mind that a man like Darcy would never propose to a woman beneath his social standing unless he held her in the highest esteem and his love was stronger than the demands of duty and family. And once he did so and was spurned, he would never want to see that woman again and never consider renewing his addresses—not ever—unless his love is stronger even than his pride. And if that is so, the only serious obstacle can be fear of another rejection and the loss of any chance at happiness. That might keep him away and induce him to act more prudently.”
He stepped closer, took her hands, kissed them affectionately, then bowed to her.
“You have every reason to trust his affection and his intentions towards you—but do you? Is there no trace of doubt or fear in your mind? He is waiting for you at Pemberley; are you certain of his meaning and intent?”
Her heart skipped a beat. “I am not,” she admitted. “I am not even certain whether I should go to Pemberley.”
Wilson smiled. “You will come with us to Lambton. From there, we shall see.”
“What about you, Mr Wilson. What are your intentions?” she asked daringly.
“I shall speak to Darcy at the first opportunity. I shall not enter Pemberley unless I know I am welcome. I shall apologize for any offence or harm I caused him. But I shall not apologize for the revenge I planned upon his relatives.”
Elizabeth breathed deeply. “Anne will be at Pemberley. She has changed so much lately. She has gained in health and self-confidence. She needs support and affection to overcome a life in which she believed herself ill and awaiting an early death. She is just learning how to live.”
Wilson frowned.
“And I have been told that Miss Georgiana Darcy is a wonderful, accomplished young woman with a beautiful character. I am sure she would love to meet her father’s old friend to benefit from his presence and his genuine affection and protection.”
She paused, but Wilson said nothing, so she continued.
“As Mr Darcy said: you were gone for twenty-five years, but now you are here, having the chance to compensate for your absence. Mr George Darcy is no longer there to welcome you, but he would be glad to have you at Pemberley. And your friendship may continue and grow. It is all in your power, sir. I hope you will use it wisely.”
Elizabeth slowly walked towards the house, Wilson following her.
The gentlemen joined her father in the library while she retired to her chamber to ponder their talk.
Mr Wilson was full of surprises—some good, some bad.
One never knew what to expect from him. She had been harsh with him, but he did not seem upset.
For the impetuosity—even recklessness—he showed in his actions, he compensated with wisdom and common sense.
After the conversation with him, her distress remained.
The fears, doubts, and disappointment were still there, contending with her reason, but the discussion helped her acquire a better understanding.
There was much to consider and to comprehend.
But her mind slowly cleared like the sky when the sun moves the clouds away.
That night, Elizabeth fell into a long restless, sleep filled with dreams of Pemberley and its master.