Chapter 26
Sometimes, a man simply had to admit when he was lost. As he stood at the window of his guest chamber, enjoying the cool morning light and adjusting his cravat, Darcy knew his time had come.
He loved Elizabeth Bennet, body and soul, and if his heart was so entirely lost, he ought to ask of her a fair exchange: her hand in marriage.
Once the decision was made, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
He was only surprised that it had taken him so long to overcome objections that now seemed merely foolish.
Elizabeth had no dowry — what of it? He had enough to keep them both in luxury, never mind comfort.
Elizabeth had not received an education from one of London’s private seminaries — quite meaningless, considering the quickness and refinement of her mind.
The behaviour of her mother and younger sisters was not genteel, but this only added to Elizabeth’s excellence.
She combined the warmth and friendliness of their informality with greater elegance, a charming combination.
No wonder he had fallen so deeply in love with her. In all ways that mattered, he could not have found a more suitable lady to be his wife, his partner in life, and the mistress of Pemberley. True, his father would not have approved.
But he was not here. Georgiana was, and she would be ecstatic to learn he intended to propose to her closest friend.
Darcy toyed with the idea of telling her his intentions, but in the end, kept his own counsel.
He did not think he was overconfident in believing that his feelings were returned.
Elizabeth had looked at him too often and with eyes too soft to believe that.
But though it was a highly eligible match for her in the eyes of the world, Darcy had come to know Elizabeth too well to believe that she would accept him with anything less than her entire heart and her fullest belief in their mutual esteem.
He had never expected to find himself in the position of intending a proposal while unsure of how he would be received.
How many ladies of the ton had attempted a flirtation without knowing anything more of him than how many pounds he had a year?
Certainly nothing could have stopped Miss Bingley from accepting a proposal if he had ever been so foolish as to make one.
Had she heard rumours of drunkenness or ill temper, she would have accepted him, as long as he still had Pemberley and all his stocks in the Exchange.
In an odd way, not knowing whether Elizabeth would accept him was the greatest compliment he had ever been given. If she accepted him, it would be out of nothing more or less than love itself.
Pondering such questions over breakfast, Darcy was not the most civil of dining companions. He was forced to apologise to Georgiana for making her repeat herself more than once.
“Not at all,” she assured him, after receiving the jam jar she had requested and his apologies for its delayed arrival. “You are only rather distracted. That much, we can all see. I hope you have not received ill news?”
“No, not at all,” Darcy reassured her. Georgiana had a rather odd expression. He could not quite make it out. He would have said she looked curious, even expectant, not worried.
“Shall you go out today?” Georgiana went on.
“We might go riding, if you liked,” Bingley put in.
Though suspecting it made him a bad friend and a worse brother, Darcy could not bear to put off his errand any longer. “In the afternoon, perhaps? I am afraid I have some things I must attend to this morning.”
Their easy acquiescence to his suggestion would have made Darcy feel guilty at how much he was withholding from them if he had not known that both would have been delighted to aid him in his errand, had they known why he demurred.
Georgiana would have made almost any sacrifice to obtain Elizabeth as a sister-in-law, and to judge by how Bingley had looked at Jane Bennet the night before, he too would find another connection to the Bennet family highly convenient.
It seemed a lucky day indeed. Darcy finished his breakfast without anyone inquiring into more than he was willing to reveal and set off on horseback soon afterward. Upon hitching his horse to the fence that encircled the Bennet’s cottage, he approached the door.
To his private relief, it was not Mrs Bennet who answered his knock, but Elizabeth’s older sister. Miss Jane Bennet seemed both a sensible person and an elegant lady, a far easier conversant than her mother.
Justifying his high opinion of her, Miss Bennet met his inquiries with a gentle smile. “Elizabeth is walking in the lane. You are very welcome to come in if you would like to wait for her, but perhaps you would do better to meet her there. My sister sometimes walks for a considerable time.”
Darcy thanked her and set out to follow the suggestion.
It was a propitious circumstance, for he would have the opportunity to speak with Elizabeth in privacy, and yet without raising hopes that might prove inconvenient if she did not wish to accept him.
Darcy shuddered, thinking of how Mrs Bennet would likely react to such a development.
Never mind his own feelings, he could not bear to think of Elizabeth subjected to such harassment.
He walked out of the little walled garden that surrounded the house in search of her.
The morning air was cool, and Darcy assumed that rain, perhaps even snow, might soon be upon them.
He quickened his steps as he came to a bend in the road and spotted a lone young woman walking out from a little copse of trees around a farmhouse, and into a part of the lane that grew more open as it expanded into pastureland.
Recognising Elizabeth’s gait, he called out to her.
She turned and shielded her eyes, waiting for him to catch up with her. “Good afternoon, Mr Darcy,” she said. Her voice shook slightly, making Darcy frown. He had been a little forward in his excitement. Had he perhaps made her nervous? It would not do to importune her.
Darcy unobtrusively took a step away, wishing to signal that he would not press her. “May I join you?” he asked.
“I should be delighted,” Elizabeth said softly. She continued to walk up the slight incline, and he matched his pace to hers.
“Are you well?” he asked.
She nodded, but she did not look up at him and smile as he longed for her to do. “Yes, I am well,” she replied. “I only needed some time to think.” She laughed then. “The cottage can become crowded with six of us living together.”
“Yes, I can only imagine,” he said. “You and your family would be more than welcome to come to Pemberley, you know. I — I never knew how much I could miss someone’s presence until you left us so suddenly at the end of the summer.”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip. “That is a very generous offer, to be sure. I cannot quite believe it. Surely you would not wish to welcome my family to Pemberley. I thought the supper party might have warned you off of such things.”
“Why ever would the supper party have anything to do with having you all over to Pemberley?” he asked.
He had had a splendid time at the supper.
Of course, her younger sisters had been a little coarse with their talk of the militiamen.
Under other circumstances, he would have worried about such an influence on Georgiana.
But if Lydia and Kitty Bennet might prove decidedly mixed acquaintances, the two eldest sisters would more than make up for their influence.
“Well, my sisters —” her words trailed off. “I know they may have been a bit overenthusiastic in their excitement. It is partly because they are out of practice, having been unable to go out into society since my father’s death. However, I am afraid they were a little unruly, even before then.”
“They showed a bit of youthful exuberance, perhaps, but I am sure they will improve in elegance as they grow older.” He turned to smile at her. “After all, they have two excellent examples before them in Miss Bennet and yourself.”
She laughed. “I thank you. That is very pleasant flattery.”
“It is nothing more than the exact truth.” Darcy stopped on the path leading up and over the next hill, where the pastureland was spread out before them in all directions. “I very much wish to speak with you about something else, Miss Elizabeth,” he said.
Elizabeth nodded, but seemed to grow even more nervous. “I have something I wish to tell you as well, Mr Darcy. Would you allow me to go first?”
Darcy turned again to look at her, taken aback by the intensity of her words. They had a sense of something near desperation to them. At last, he nodded, and they continued walking. She seemed to need to move in order to collect her thoughts.
At length, Elizabeth spoke. “You mentioned my leaving Pemberley so suddenly at the end of the summer. And I believe you deserve an explanation.”
“I did not mean to sound as if I were angry —” he said. But she shook her head, and he let his words trail off so she could go on.
“I know.” She looked up at him, deep anguish shining in her eyes. Darcy drew in a quick breath. What could she have to tell him? The uncertainty was almost unbearable.
“Please, let me first say that I shall never forget your kindness in inviting us to stay at Pemberley. It was the most generous thing anyone has ever done for us,” she said. “And I know it could not have been easy, having your home invaded by so many of us.”
“I would do it all again. Indeed, it was no imposition at all. I confess, Pemberley has been too quiet since you left and the Gardiners returned to London.”
She hung her head, seeming to study her feet as they walked. “You are too kind,” she said. “And that makes what I must tell you even worse.”
Darcy frowned. “Worse?”
She looked to be on the verge of tears. “I have been lying to you, Mr Darcy. I know it is unforgiveable after everything you have done for me and my family. But I hope you will try to understand why I felt I had to continue with the ruse.” She took a steadying breath. “I am not who you think I am.”
Darcy looked at her in astonishment. “I cannot understand this at all. Surely you cannot mean that you are not Elizabeth Bennet.”
“I am Elizabeth Bennet, it is true. But I have a confession that I am sure will be most shocking.” She closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, tears were welling up. “I am Mrs Laurence.”
It took several seconds for her words to make any sense in his mind. He shook his head, looking at her with new eyes. “You are the author, Mrs Laurence?” he asked.
“Yes. I am so sorry, Mr Darcy. I have lied to you so many times, and I hated every one of them. I know that likely you would not have invited me into your home, had you known me to be the notorious Mrs Laurence, but I could not find a way out that would protect my secret. All the same, I shall not blame you if you never wish to speak to me again.”
His mind was already swirling with the implications of what she had just told him.
Miss Bennet was a famous author? Had she written works of morality, even refined poetry, it would have been an admirable accomplishment.
But low Gothic fiction was something else entirely.
She had achieved admirable success, to be sure — but she had done it by taking a false name, risking her reputation and that of her sisters, and achieving something that better deserved the name of notoriety than fame.
And all this was the woman he had fallen in love with — the woman he thought he had known so well?
Elizabeth stopped and turned, motioning that they should head back toward the cottage, which was in view behind the trees that lined the quiet country lane in the distance.
“I became Mrs Laurence, not out of rebellion, but out of necessity,” she explained.
“When my father died, we lost everything in the entail. I had to do something to ensure my family survived. And so I wrote my first novel, and my uncle helped me submit it to no end of publishers, until it was at last accepted by Mr Tilney.”
Darcy nodded. Her confession explained everything. “I see,” he said. “And so this is why your fingers were always smudged with ink, and why you had copies of Mrs Laurence’s books when no one else could find them?”
She looked him in the eye for the first time since making her confession. “Yes. When we met in London, I had just received three of my author copies from my publisher. Your sister was so eager, I could not bear to disappoint a reader.”
“Naturally,” he replied, unable to keep a certain note of irony out of his voice in the bitterness of his shock and disillusion.
“It all makes sense. You must think me a fool for having remained ignorant all this time. This is lowering indeed. I have thought myself a good judge of people, but I see now that I know nothing.”
Elizabeth turned to him, seeming about to speak, when they were hailed from down the lane. Only moments later, Lydia and Kitty Bennet were hurrying toward them.
To his relief, Darcy had not a doubt that Elizabeth was too sensible and too considerate of his feelings to continue their discussion in front of her sisters, who, of course, must know the secret of Mrs Laurence.
Whatever she had intended to say next must remain a mystery.
The discussion of her secret was at an end.
And perhaps it was for the best, for in his astonishment, Darcy hardly knew what he ought to say.