36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
April 1812 Hunsford, Kent Elizabeth
E lizabeth awoke the morning after Mr. Darcy’s disastrous proposal feeling depressed. Her ankle throbbed, though it pained her less today than it had yesterday. Worse, her dreams had been haunted by the man who claimed to love her. His anguished expression taunted her, making her feel as though she had made a great mistake.
I was true to myself and my convictions, she reminded herself sternly. If he cannot love me as I am, then I must not lose my heart to him. But was it already too late? That organ beat painfully at the thought of never seeing him again.
Lydia arranged for the maid to help Elizabeth to the drawing room. She ate her breakfast from a tray brought from the kitchen, her foot propped up on a stool. Willow bark tea accompanied the meal. Afterwards, she read a book.
In only a few hours, she had grown restless. Her ankle meant she would be confined indoors until it was time to depart. Lydia told her that Lady Catherine wished for her company for tea before leaving for town, and so the carriage would be sent to take her to Rosings Park on the day of her departure.
The bell sounded, and Elizabeth looked eagerly toward the door. Company would be just the thing to alleviate her boredom. She did not dare hope that it was Mr. Darcy. Indeed, the man was not likely to speak to her ever again. But Colonel Fitzwilliam or Anne would be pleasant.
Lydia, too, looked pleased at the idea of visitors and set aside the bonnet she had torn apart earlier that morning.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam to see you.” Martha stepped aside and admitted the colonel.
“Welcome, sir,” Lydia said. “You look dashing this morning. Can I order some tea?”
How very like Lydia to remark on one’s appearance, Elizabeth thought in amusement.
“No thank you, madam,” he replied. “I have come to take my leave. I am to take Darcy’s carriage to London before returning to my mother’s house.”
“And where is Mr. Darcy?” Lydia voiced the question on Elizabeth’s tongue.
“He was called away this morning,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied regretfully. “As such, he rode his horse to town, for it is faster than the carriage.” He paused and gave Elizabeth an unfathomable look. “On second thought, Mrs. Collins, tea would be lovely.”
Lydia jumped up and hurried from the room to fulfil the request, no thought spared to simply ringing the bell and calling the maid.
“Miss Bennet.” Colonel Fitzwilliam sat beside her. “I have a letter from Darcy. He bade me see it in your hands. Dare I hope that this means I will be able to call you cousin?” He offered the letter, and she took it.
“No, sir. I cannot imagine why your cousin has written to me.”
His brow furrowed. “He did not propose?”
She smiled sadly. “He did. I refused him.”
“What the devil for? Forgive me, Miss Bennet.” The colonel shook his head. “He loves you, and I thought you felt the same.”
Elizabeth bristled. “My feelings are my own, sir, and it is not your place to question my decisions or request an explanation.”
“Forgive me again. My surprise has allowed my tongue to run away with me. I suppose that explains why Darcy rode off at dawn. Mayhap his letter will hold some explanation. Is it too much to request that you read it?” He looked at her beseechingly, and she could not refuse.
“I will, but not in company.”
Lydia entered with tea things, curtailing their conversation. They each received a cup, and their hostess made small talk as they partook. When he had finished his cup, the colonel stood.
“Pray, forgive me, but I must depart. I am expected in town this afternoon. Thank you very much for your hospitality, Mrs. Collins. Miss Bennet, until we meet again.” He bowed and departed, leaving the ladies alone once more.
Mr. Darcy’s letter had been stuffed under Elizabeth’s leg, concealing it from Lydia’s view. There it stayed until Lydia left to go about her parish duties that afternoon.
Slowly, Elizabeth pulled the missive out and broke the seal. She read it tentatively at first and then faster. Upon completing it, she read it twice more before closing it and tucking it into her pocket.
He began well, offering his apologies and expressing his fear that she would turn him away if he attempted to speak to her in person. He knows me as a fair and liberal person. How could he imagine I would be so rude? She thought she could understand his fears, however, for apologizing and admitting wrong tried most people’s fortitude.
His apology was well written, and she appreciated the sentiment. Furthermore, his expressions of understanding about her staunch defense of her family warmed her heart. He understands, she thought. That is more than I hoped for.
He called himself insensitive and an idiot, which made her chuckle. Mr. Darcy’s words also provided an explanation for his behavior, even if it did not excuse it. Having her suspicions confirmed about both Jane and the situation with Mr. Wickham felt gratifying.
Had Jane and I been on better terms when I learned of his interference, I might have taken great offense, she admitted to herself. Jane was once a most beloved sister, and I would have defended her as ardently as the rest of my family. It was as she suspected months ago; her stepsister’s own behavior had condemned her and driven Mr. Bingley away.
The further information about Mr. Wickham discomposed her. If the man were so bad, he ought to be exposed. Lydia had informed her only days ago that he had become engaged to Miss King, an heiress with ten thousand pounds. And did he not say he would throw her over for greater inducement? Imagine how he would have responded if he knew my fortune exceeded thirty thousand?
One little detail of Miss Darcy’s sad story stood out. Her companion was named Mrs. Younge. What are the odds that the lady is Mrs. Agatha Younge, Jane’s aunt? They were slim, Elizabeth felt certain. The Bennets had not seen nor heard from the woman since she had been cast out of Longbourn for thievery. But poor Miss Darcy to have been so abused by those she should be able to trust.
His final paragraph reiterated his apologies. It was his last sentence that truly confused her. And again, it said, accept my best wishes for your happy future this summer.
What could he mean by that? He knew she would spend the summer with her uncle, but to what happy future did he refer? Puzzling man, she thought.
The next day, Lady Catherine’s carriage came to retrieve Elizabeth for tea. She bid her sister-and brother-in-law a fond farewell, thanking them for the visit and agreeing to write. They returned the sentiments and walked with her to the front door.
Elizabeth could put a little weight on her ankle now, and she tied her half boots tightly to help support the weak appendage. Millie came too, offering her arm for her mistress to lean upon as they walked up the stairs toward Rosing’s door.
“There you are Elizabeth.” Lady Catherine pointed to a chair near hers. Millie helped her to sit and then put Elizabeth’s ankle up on a stool. “A turned ankle? I am sorry to hear it. What a dreadful way to end an otherwise pleasant visit.”
She turned and began preparing the tea. “I have suggested to Mrs. Collins that you remain in Kent for another month, complete. If you do, I can take you to town myself. Anne and I will be traveling there to finalize the details of her nuptials. You did promise to attend. The date is set for the end of June.”
“I shall speak to my aunt about the wedding when I return to town. Unfortunately, I cannot stay for another month. My sister misses me, and I promised I would spend the season with her. As I have been gone six weeks already, I dare not delay in returning to her.”
Lady Catherine smiled. “Your sisterly affection does you credit. I shall pay a call on Lady Elmwood when I come to town. I wish to meet your sister. Has she any godparents? I volunteered years ago to fill the position, but your father never replied to the letter.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I do not believe I know,” she replied. “Perhaps I shall write to my father and inquire. Mary would be pleased to make your acquaintance, for I have written of you often during my stay.”
The lady smiled, appearing pleased. “Anne, have you asked Elizabeth to exchange letters yet? And you had best write to me, Miss Bennet, for I have a great desire to know you better.”
“Of course. And Anne has asked to correspond with me. I look forward to the endeavor.”
“We have been cheated out of a lifelong friendship, dear Elizabeth,” Anne replied, smiling broadly. “Now we must do our best to rectify the matter.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I am certain we can manage. I promise to send you a letter within a day of returning to my uncle’s house.”
They spoke of Elizabeth’s plans for the rest of the season. After an hour or so, Millie stepped in and informed her that her uncle’s carriage had arrived. Her trunks had already been retrieved from the parsonage, and so there was nothing to stop Elizabeth’s departure. She bid Anne and Lady Catherine a fond farewell. The latter pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“Visit me soon, my dear,” she said with emotion.
Millie helped Elizabeth hobble from the room and outside. Traversing the stairs carefully, she breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the bottom. A footman assisted her into the carriage, and she sat with her legs stretched out on the forward-facing bench. A pillow supported her back and added to her comfort. Miracle that she was, Millie withdrew a lump of ice from a basket beneath the bench, wrapping it around her mistress’s ankle and securing it in place.
“You are a treasure,” Elizabeth remarked, sighing as the ice numbed her sore appendage.
The journey to London took some hours, and when they finally arrived at Elm House, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. Her bit of ice had long since melted, and her ankle throbbed painfully. The carriage slowed to a stop, and the door came open.
“Lizzy!” James’s smiling face greeted her. “What on earth are you doing sitting like that?”
“A sprained ankle, cousin. Come, help me inside.” She turned and put her feet on the floor, wincing as she stood.
“Trust you to do something so foolish right before you come home.” He chortled and held her arm firmly as she stepped down from the carriage. “I am very glad to see you. Mary will be as well. She and Mama are taking tea with Lady Someone or other.”
“I am surprised they are not here to greet me. Mary wrote to hurry my return three days ago.” She winced as she put too much pressure on her ankle and leaned harder into her cousin’s side.
“Mary wished to remain, but since we did not know precisely when to expect you, Mother persuaded her away. They should return shortly.”
James assisted her into the house and up to her room. Millie promptly helped her into more comfortable attire before wrapping her ankle tightly in strips of cloth. “Can you walk downstairs?” she asked. “Your aunt has just arrived.”
“I think so. My ankle will have to get used to abuse, for I will not be confined to my room until it heals. Besides, it is already much better now than it was two days ago.” She hobbled out of the room with Millie’s support. James met her in the hallway.
“Here you are,” he said, holding out one of his walking sticks. “This ought to help.” He took Millie’s position at her side, and she took the stick in her other hand. Together, they made their way to the drawing room.
“Dearest Lizzy!” Mary’s ecstatic countenance greeted her. “I am so glad you are returned. The season has been dreadfully dull without you.”
“Really, Mary? You have not enjoyed yourself at all?” Elizabeth teased.
“Well, as long as I am not required to make conversation,” Mary teased back.
“Whatever happened to you?” Aunt Maria asked. “Why does James assist you as if you cannot walk?”
Elizabeth sighed and explained again how she came to turn her ankle. “I will be well in a few days. It only hurts to walk a very little.”
“I suppose James gave you that ridiculous stick, thinking it would help?” Aunt Mavery quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “How very thoughtful of him.”
“It will give me another means of support at least,” Elizabeth laughed. “I am very grateful for my cousin.”
“A letter for you.” The butler appeared and offered it to her.
“Already?” She laughed again. “I have only just arrived.” Her smile faded as she turned it over and recognized the handwriting. “It is from Jane,” she said, surprised.
Elizabeth hobbled to a chair and sat, opening and reading the letter as quickly as she could.
“She invites us for tea, Mary,” she said, extending the letter to her sister to read. “What do you make of it?”
Mary read it silently and then handed it back. “I think we ought to go,” she said. “She has given us more than enough time to fit it into our schedules.” Mary hesitated. "I know she wrote before. You ought to have replied."
Elizabeth sighed. “I know. I confess, I am still hurt by her defection. Despite her mother’s wishes, Jane befriended us. We were as close as sisters could be, though we do not share a drop of the same blood. And then her inexplicable behavior…”
“She offers to explain,” Mary reminded her pointedly. “Can we not give her the opportunity to repent?”
“I suppose it is only right to do so. Well, Aunt, have we any pressing engagements?” Elizabeth turned to the countess. Part of her hoped her aunt would refuse to allow them to go. I do not know if I am ready to face Jane, she thought.
“No, you are free to attend tea on Gracechurch Street. I have a meeting with my charity that afternoon, anyway. Give my best to Mrs. Gardiner.” Aunt Mavery smiled cheerfully.
“We were to go to a soiree on Monday,” Mary said, changing the subject. “Will you be able to walk well enough to attend?”
“If I stay off my ankle, I believe I will. Now, if you will bring me my writing box, I will pen a reply to Jane.”
The box appeared as promptly as possible, given it had been packed in her trunks, and Elizabeth opened it and put a clean sheet of paper in front of her. She dipped her pen in the inkwell and then paused with it, hovering over the paper. It is only a simple acceptance of an invitation, she scolded herself. Do not be missish.
Dear Jane,
Mary and I are pleased to accept your invitation to tea for next Friday. Thank you very much. We are eager to see you again after so many months apart.
Elizabeth paused. That was hardly enough. She quickly penned a few lines about having just returned from Kent and then sanded and sealed it. The missive she handed off to a footman with instructions to see it delivered to Gracechurch Street.