Chapter Nineteen
“My mind was more agreeably engaged.”
“I SAY, BINGLEY, IS THAT NOT YOUR BAROUCHE HEADED TOWARDS NETHErfield?” Darcy and his friend took a final tour of Bingley’s estate. With four days before the wedding, they attempted to bury their eagerness in dutiful hours.
“Yes, Jane wished to make one last walk-through of Netherfield Park and note the renovations for each room before my sisters arrive tomorrow. I sent my carriage for her.” Bingley rose up in his saddle to have a better view of his intended.
“Your Elizabeth plans to spend the afternoon with Georgiana.”
Darcy, too, sat forward in the saddle. It seemed to be a lifetime since he first observed Elizabeth Bennet walking along the roads surrounding Netherfield.
The image had sent a surge of interest through him then, as it did now.
“Do you think you have seen enough of Netherfield’s lands for the day? ” he asked nonchalantly.
“I believe I have.” Bingley winked conspiratorially. “We should return to the house. Though I believe we should enter through the servants’ entrance, freshen up, and then surprise the Miss Bennets. What do you say, Darcy?”
Darcy smiled broadly. “Your suggestion is most welcome.”
By the time Darcy drew outside the open doorway of the drawing room, Elizabeth and Georgiana were cozy in their conversation.
They spoke of family, of music, and of Darcy.
An outside observer might think they had been sisters forever.
A natural respect existed between them. Their laughter drifted from the room, and Darcy found himself reluctant to intrude upon their kinship.
“Georgiana, may I ask the favor of a response?” Elizabeth said tentatively.
“Anything, Elizabeth.”
“Something has bothered me for some time. When I first met your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, he already knew so much about me. When I asked his source, he said you had told him; yet, we had never met.”
“That is simple, Miss Elizabeth. My brother often spoke of you.”
“Truly? What could he say? Something devious, I am confident.”
“William had never mentioned a woman in his letters prior to meeting you. My brother related many of your conversations at Netherfield. I could not believe anyone spoke to him in the manner you did. It piqued my interest. When I thought he was most distracted, I would ask something of you.”
“My manners were abhorrent. His stories must have portrayed me as less than civilized.”
Darcy nearly laughed aloud, but he stifled it because he wished to hear more.
“Oh, no, Miss Elizabeth. William always said wonderful things about you. I wanted to meet you, and I hoped we could be friends. I was upset when Mr. Bingley quit Netherfield, for I wished to travel to Hertfordshire to take your acquaintance. William said he wished that too.”
He heard Elizabeth clear her throat in what was likely embarrassment.
“There is something more of which we should speak.” Elizabeth hesitated, and Darcy wondered what could be so odious that the “brave” woman of his dreams would shun it.
At length, she said, “Now that you survived an evening with my family and their references to Mr. Wickham, may we revisit our conversation on the gentleman?” Darcy was not aware of a conversation between the two, especially one on Mr. Wickham.
“What do you mean, Elizabeth?” His sister sounded fearful.
“With Mr. Wickham, did you believe yourself to feel regard, affection, or love?” Darcy’s back stiffened. What in the world was Elizabeth doing? He did not know whether to interrupt or trust her. He chose the latter, but remained on alert.
“I am not confident that I understand. I felt all three.”
The turn of this conversation made Darcy uncomfortable, but he had committed himself to Elizabeth’s sensibilities and trusted her.
“I am not an expert on love, Georgiana, but you are mistaken. If you held Mr. Wickham in regard, you would have felt foolish at your loss, but the romance would have soon dissipated. If you felt affection for the man, you would again be foolish, but time would have resolved your loss. If I am correct, you felt one of these emotions rather than love. Is that not true?”
Unwillingly, Georgiana confessed, “I see one of these definitions fitting my situation, but then what is love?”
“Real love, Georgiana, changes a person’s life.
Your own needs no longer exist. If rejected, you never forget the person.
As your brother did, you might retreat into yourself.
You might attempt to find solace elsewhere, but it cannot be found.
You might even choose another with whom to spend your life, but there is no love, for it died and was replaced with regard or affection.
I could not think of loving anyone but Darcy. Can you say the same of Mr. Wickham?”
“I cannot. I feel nothing for the man. I only feel my own shame.”
“Then may we move forward? You are not the person you were then. The Darcys must learn self-chastisement is a hard master. Your brother is learning that lesson. Can you not also?”
His sister sighed heavily. “You explain things so logically and so simply. I am pleased to share my life with you. Perhaps, if we had been prior confidants, your counsel would have served me well. I acted the role of a fool.”
“We all assume the comic role at one time or another. Your brother and I are perfect examples, but we will share a special bond. I may not always have the answers, but we will find our way together, and I will never turn from you.”
Darcy could not believe how easily the two spoke of intimate details. At last, Georgiana possessed a female to whom to turn for advice. He started to step into the room, but held for just a moment when Elizabeth stammered one last question.
“Do you … do you believe Lady Catherine will ever forgive your brother for not choosing Anne? Family is so important to me. I despise being the cause of a family rift.”
“My aunt is stubborn, but she neglected the fact that William is the head of the Darcy family. Those over whom Lady Catherine holds sway will soon be forgotten.”
“But will Edward’s intention to marry Anne create other problems for your brother?”
“If William married Anne, our aunt could stay at Rosings because William is wealthy enough not to require Anne’s fortune.
When Edward marries Anne, Rosings becomes theirs, and my aunt will become the Dowager Lady de Bourgh and be relegated to a small country manor.
Her ladyship has more concerns than your marrying my brother. ”
“I feel as if I have destroyed your family, Georgiana.”
“That is nonsense. My brother loves you.”
Darcy could bear no more. He stepped into the room. “My sister is correct; you have bewitched me.” He stopped only a few steps within the doorway. Both ladies jumped to their feet as if caught misbehaving. He and Elizabeth locked eyes. She blushed deeply.
“You, sir,” she began haltingly, “should … should not be eavesdropping.”
His eyes flashed with humor. “How else may I know when the two women I cherish most are conspiring against me?”
Elizabeth raised her chin as if to challenge him, but her bottom lip quivered.
“You do not intend on rejecting me again do you, Elizabeth? I am afraid my heart could not withstand the pain another time,” he taunted her.
Tears filled her eyes as she said, “My loving you could hurt you. I do not want you to regret choosing me.”
“Elizabeth, I will not give you up again,” he said adamantly. “If necessary, I will carry you off and make you my wife over the anvil. You would not force me to do something so uncharacteristic, would you?”
She rushed into his arms, burying her tears into his chest. Soothing her, he said, “Shush. We will have no more tears over Lady Catherine’s disapproval.
Do you not think I have suffered enough at your hand?
” As he said this, he brought her palm to his lips and kissed it gently.
“Georgiana,” he briefly diverted his eyes to his sister, “why do you not retrieve the gift you brought for Elizabeth?” Georgiana curtsied and left quickly.
Elizabeth raised her chin. “These hands, sir,” she said at last, “will never present you pain again.” As she spoke, she stroked his chin and snuggled closer.
He rested his hands on her waist, pulling Elizabeth nearer. The familiar lavender wafted over him. “Elizabeth, in a few moments, I may forget I am a gentleman, and you are a gentleman’s daughter.”
Elizabeth’s giggle became a purr. “Ungentleman-like behavior,” she teased, “must wait a few more days, but I would not object to a kiss to seal our promise to each other.”
His breath was ragged with anticipation. Darcy kissed her long and hard. “Our love will go down in history,” he whispered when he raised his head.
“Will it now?” she whispered back, her lips only inches from his.
“Great loves are always remembered. We will be ‘Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth.’”
“Ooh, that is way too long. It does not roll easily off the tongue—‘Darcy and Elizabeth’ is more to my liking.” She nibbled on his lower lip.
“So, it is agreed. Our love will be what makes great legends.” He turned his head to nuzzle her ear. “We will be as Romeo and Juliet or Othello and Desdemona.”
She rose on tiptoes for another brief kiss. “I hope we must not die for our love. May we not be more of the nature of Petruchio and Katherine or Benedick and Beatrice?”
Darcy laughed softly. Even in the middle of an embrace, she would challenge him. Life with Elizabeth Bennet would be everything but boring. “So, the lady prefers comedy to tragedy?” He kissed her lightly, brushing his lips over hers.
“Our relationship has been a comedy of errors at times.” Her fingers caressed the hair along the back of his neck. Her nearness captured Darcy. He bowed his head to kiss her warmly.