Chapter Sixteen
The next morning dawned bright and clear, as if the week of stormy weather had never been.
Elizabeth gazed out the parlor window, at liberty to do so in her dressing gown since the gentlemen had taken up their previous guest rooms. Cathy joined her in gazing out at the golden trees, the landscape so idyllic when lit by the sun that it was nearly as if the horrors of the last week had all been some fever dream.
Even the moat seemed tranquil and bucolic.
Cathy watched as Elizabeth tipped her head down to gaze at the still water below. “Not so frightening now, is it, Lizzy?”
“No,” Elizabeth mused with a wry smile. “Having seen Mr. Bertram caterwauling on the sinking raft, and then lassoed off of it, I cannot but laugh when I look at the moat.”
“Perhaps one day we can visit the seaside together, if you are no longer afraid.”
“I may be prevailed upon to sea bathe in shallow waters; it is the depths that unsettle me. What creatures might be lurking.”
“Just like at Clwyd Castle,” Cathy laughed. “Except that what goes on at the bottom of the sea is none of my business.”
“Nor mine,” Elizabeth merrily agreed.
The two sisters broke their fast in the parlor with Harriet, Emma, and Lady Allen, who had remained in the suite with them. Lady Allen was eager to begin making plans for the future with her daughters and their friends, and when Sir Edward joined them, they were a very merry little party.
It was not long before the three other gentlemen called on them; Mr. Willoughby arrived with a tray of petit fours for Emma, Mr. Tilney came bearing a box of old painting supplies, and Mr. Darcy had a large leatherbound book tucked under his arm.
“I feel so much lighter today,” Mr. Willoughby declared. “It is all over; or it shall be when we can open the drawbridge.”
“I feel rather heavier,” Emma said with a laugh as she reached for the sweets. “I shall have to mind my figure for the wedding.”
“On the matter of the drawbridge, I have a plan,” Mr. Tilney said.
Amongst the painting things were a few old bedsheets, and he asked Cathy to fetch her sewing kit.
“I do expect the royals today, or tomorrow at the latest. We might all go up to the battlements and scream like banshees, but I thought of a better idea. We shall make a banner asking for help.”
Cathy agreed, and the two began sewing the old sheets together. The rest of their party elected to play cards, but Mr. Darcy sought out Elizabeth. “Shall we go and ponder beneath the willow tree?”
Elizabeth was happy to accept his invitation and take his arm as he led her from the suite, down to the courtyard.
The blue, cloudless sky and bright sunlight cast a shockingly different aspect from the grey and dreary sight she had become accustomed to during her stay in the castle.
For the first time, she began to feel exceedingly fortunate to enjoy such a rare and splendid scene.
She had just begun to fret over the mud when Mr. Darcy gestured to a blanket he had already placed beneath the willow tree.
Atop it were several cushions and a large basket of fruit and berries.
He helped her situate herself comfortably on the blanket, and then he sat down on the stone bench nearby and opened the large book he carried.
“Do you really mean to read me poems, sir? Dare I hope that you have composed them yourself?”
“I shall save that for when I mean to vex you, my dearest one. Your eyes are very lovely when you are quarreling with me, and I daresay a sonnet poorly composed in their honor shall achieve just that effect which I so enjoy.”
Mr. Darcy’s countenance was perfectly serious, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.
He opened the book and showed it to her; it was a sketchbook.
The inside cover bore a small leather pouch where charcoal pencils were cased, and it was obvious there were quite a few sketches already completed within.
Elizabeth popped a blackberry into her mouth. “Will you show me?”
“I hoped you would ask,” he said with a sheepish smile. Mr. Darcy leaned forward as he presented her with a series of drawings of his sister Georgiana.
“She is beautiful,” Elizabeth said. “And so very young, with every appearance of goodness and innocence. And to think Mr. Wickham worked such wickedness on her!”
“The late Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Darcy said gravely. He presented a few more portraits, and several of them featured a soldier, plain man with a lively countenance. “That is my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam; we are as close as brothers, and we share Georgiana’s guardianship.”
“He seems a good-humored fellow,” Elizabeth mused, studying the skillful lines that had given the colonel an air of japery.
“He is. He possesses all of Bingley’s affable cheer, and yet he is a vastly clever fellow. He is the only person, besides yourself, who can tear me to strips with his teasing, and yet make such a fine case for my failings that I do indeed amend myself.”
“When have I ever changed your mind about anything?”
Mr. Darcy looked pained. “I am sure you perceived the disdain I held for your family, and indeed the entire neighborhood, when I was in Meryton. When first I arrived, I was merely out of humor, but I never troubled myself to disagree with Miss Bingley’s snobbery.
And when Wickham came to Meryton and was so welcomed by everybody in the village, I quite despised everyone who had a kind word for him. ”
“Even me?”
“Never you, my dear one,” he said, taking her hand in his.
“That you, too, had been deceived by his deceitful charm taught me what I ought to have learned when Georgiana fell prey to his wiles. One ought not to be blamed for believing in the goodness of others. You have not been damaged by that misapprehension, for I am sure you can still see the best in everybody you meet; the proof of that is in how you have behaved here, even in the worst of circumstances. I wish that for Georgiana, too. At first I thought only that she ought to be more guarded towards others, after being taken advantage of, but now I begin to hope she will learn something of your resilience. She ought to laugh and feel joy in company, without any new acquaintance being sullied by fear and distrust.”
This was a rather long speech for Mr. Darcy, and tears welled in Elizabeth’s eyes at his sentiments.
“Shall we test her mettle, and introduce her to my relations at Longbourn? If she can see the best in them, she is well on her way to a fine recovery of spirits. And if you no longer despise them, so much the better.”
“I do not; I ought never to have thought ill of anybody I met in Meryton, with the possible exception of your cousin Collins, whom I intend to assiduously avoid when I visit my aunt at Rosings. It will be difficult, for I am already prone to avoiding her while I am there.”
Elizabeth chortled, and Mr. Darcy showed her a few sketches of a tall and imperious older woman. “Richard discovered that she is less prone to monologues when she is sitting for her portrait, and so I always sketch her when I visit.”
Elizabeth admired the drawings of Lady Catherine, who was a fashionable and formidable woman. “Perhaps a sketch of Mr. Collins here in the corner, on bended knee, groveling as he admires the expensive furnishings.”
Mr. Darcy turned to a blank sheet in his sketchbook. “Perhaps one of you?”
Elizabeth rather liked the idea of him sketching her, of his gaze sweeping over her body as he did so. She reclined against the cushions and reached for some grapes. “You must draw me like a renaissance goddess, utterly decadent amidst a scene of great chaos.”
Once she was positioned most becomingly, he nodded and began his work.
Elizabeth remained silent as he wore a look of great contemplation, making sweeping strokes and smaller ones as he began.
She lapsed into a pensive and peaceful reverie, and her mind turned to thoughts of her family.
She would be obliged to have two serious conversations with her parents when she returned home; first she must tell them that she knew of her true origins, and then she would surely shock them senseless when she told them she was betrothed to Mr. Darcy. She laughed as she imagined it.
“What amuses you, oh goddess?”
Mr. Darcy calling her a goddess was a circumstance that might have driven her into a frenzy of laughter a year ago, but presently she only smiled.
“I wonder what shall astonish my parents more – that I know the truth of my birth, and have two new sisters in the bargain, or that I have promised to marry the man that I spent many months besmirching about the village.”
“Certainly the latter,” he said with a frown.
“I am sure I shall have to crawl to your father on my knees to atone for how I behaved last autumn. My sister is an angel, and may soften my taciturnity a little; perhaps if Richard is not occupied with his duties to the crown, he might join me and tease everyone into good humor about our match.”
“I cannot call him handsome, but if he is wearing regimentals, I daresay all the other ladies at Longbourn shall. But do you mean to come to Meryton soon, sir? I am of age, and you already have Sir Edward’s blessing.”
“I will travel with you, of course. I apologize if I was unclear, my dear one, but I mean never to be parted from you again. Not for a single day shall we be apart, until we are wed, and certainly not for quite a long time thereafter.”
Elizabeth beamed at him, sharing his wishes wholeheartedly. “Would you really consent to bringing Georgiana to Meryton? If she is in London, we will surely break our journey there before continuing north to Longbourn.”