Chapter 29
Darcy decided to walk in the park rather than immediately return to Berkeley Square and whatever awaited him at home, most likely Georgiana wanting to know what the ball had been like.
The cool autumn air would help to dispel the lingering effects of his headache and revive him after the sleepless night.
As well, it was a tranquil place to think about Elizabeth.
They had been there together several times, and he recalled how eagerly she had observed everything about them, from the movement of wind through the trees, to the birds and other animals who called the park home.
He loved the brightness of her eyes, how quick she was to smile and find joy in even small, inconsequential things, the ease with which she laughed, and how willing she was to embrace new people, as she had with Georgiana, Miss Strachan, and Fitzwilliam, all of whom she had met over the last month or so.
Even last spring in Ireland, she had made a friend of Bramwell from the day they met.
And she would have done so with me, had I been polite.
Still, they had grown from being indifferent acquaintances to more than friends in the span of weeks, which showed she had a generous, forgiving nature. He was counting on it.
“I must, for what else can I do?” he murmured softly, doubting he would be overheard or even noticed, given how few people were in the park at this hour. “I insulted the lady I love, inadvertently perhaps, but that makes no difference.”
Everything had been going well, and he had anticipated spending the next weeks deepening his connexion with Elizabeth before she returned to Longbourn for Christmas.
He likely would have proposed by that time.
But then Lady Catherine and Anne had come to town without warning.
It was just eight days ago, but being in their company as much as he had, it felt like ten times as long.
Part of that was the endless discussions about marriage, and how weighed down by expectation he had been when his aunts and uncle spoke of his parents and Sir Lewis de Bourgh being proud to know that he and Anne were husband and wife.
It was only natural that he would regret disappointing his relations, but there was no other option.
“Besides, what would most make my father and mother proud is if I choose to marry the lady who will materially add to my happiness, thus enabling me to be the best man—husband, father, brother, master, even nephew and cousin—possible. Am I not my own man? Do I not have the right to decide for myself?”
He recalled having a similar conversation with Bingley in September when his friend had said he had given up the notion of leasing Netherfield because his sisters objected.
Darcy had encouraged him to make his own decisions, to consider what he wanted rather than give into his sisters’ demands, which were not always made with his well-being and wishes in mind.
That was what Bramwell had done in choosing to overlook his parents’ hopes and expectations in favour of marrying Rebecca.
He had taken the path that would bring him the most satisfaction and joy.
Even Fitzwilliam was doing likewise, because while Marian Strachan was universally liked, her father was the opposite, and Lord Romsley hated the prospect of being connected to him.
Why had he supposed his situation was any different, that he must be so overly concerned about his relations’ opinions?
A thought suddenly struck him, almost causing his steps to falter. Bingley would soon meet Elizabeth, because Bingley was her neighbour in the country. A neighbour with a large house he had repeatedly invited Darcy to visit, even saying he could turn up on his doorstep without notice.
Chuckling to himself, Darcy softly said, “That will make it easier for me to see her. I must be more tired than I suspected, otherwise I would have thought of it immediately.” How surprised Bingley would be to see that he, of all men, was acting impetuously by going to Netherfield without first writing and asking if it would be convenient.
He was expected at Grosvenor Square that afternoon, and even before then, he must speak to Georgiana. Tomorrow, however, he would be in Hertfordshire.
Elizabeth’s arrival at Longbourn was a surprise to her family, and she relished the warm welcome they gave her.
Her parents, sisters, and she sat in the drawing room, a light repast and hot tea soon appearing.
That, too, she appreciated; she had not been able to eat before leaving Mrs Ryde, and during the journey from town, she had felt nauseous, which she attributed to lack of sleep and the ugly mix of emotions that still resided within her.
At home, in the loving embrace of her nearest relations—and at a distance from Mr Darcy—she was beginning to feel ill from lack of nourishment.
“But why did you leave London so abruptly, Lizzy?” her mother asked.
“Is it not enough to say that I missed you all terribly?” Glancing at her father, in his usual chair close to the fireplace, she saw his quirked eyebrow.
It told her he would expect a more complete response when they were alone.
She had considered what she would say to excuse her behaviour; of utmost importance was not to reveal her disappointment regarding Mr Darcy.
“Nothing would convince me to quit town, not so long as there are parties to go to and gentlemen to flirt with!” Lydia said before she and Kitty laughed.
“We just went to a ball last night,” Mary said, her tone reproving. “How can you be so ungrateful for Mr and Miss Bingley’s efforts?”
“Girls,” Mr Bennet said, giving them a stern look.
“But Lizzy has had ever so much more fun than us,” Lydia insisted. “I want to go to town, and I would appreciate it more than she evidently has. Otherwise, she would not be here.”
“If she did, she would stay with Mrs Ryde as long as she would have her,” Kitty added.
Mr Bennet sighed loudly, the expression on his face hardening as he regarded his two youngest daughters.
“You would think the presence of the militia would keep them happy. I know I have had to endure too much talk of officers. But enough, Lydia, Kitty. Let us hear Lizzy’s voice.
” Turning to her, he added, “Answer your mother’s question, please. ”
Elizabeth finished a mouthful of chicken pie and placed the plate on the small painted table beside her.
She took a quick sip of tea before speaking.
“I cannot say precisely. Yesterday, I was struck by a sudden longing for home, and Lord Halsley arranged for me to come. Of course, I appreciate Mrs Ryde’s kindness!
I always have, and I promised her we would see each other again soon.
But she also understands that I love my family, and between our trip this summer and the past two months in town, I have been away from you most of the year. ”
“That was a very pretty speech,” her father said. Outwardly, he appeared to accept her explanation, but she suspected he would still have questions.
Her mother, by whom Elizabeth sat, patted her cheek and gave it a kiss.
“You are a good girl, Lizzy, and I am glad you are here. I know that soon you girls will marry, and Longbourn will no longer be your home. It is a hardship all mothers must face when they have so many daughters.” She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
“But did you not meet any eligible gentlemen? Now that Jane is engaged—”
“What?” Elizabeth cried. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Mama. Did you say Jane is engaged?” She gaped at her elder sister, who was in a chair next to the sofa on which she sat.
Jane blushed, and while she smiled prettily, it was clear she was struggling not to grin. “Mr Bingley proposed at the ball yesterday.”
“And once your sister sensibly said yes, he rushed over to me to ask my permission,” her father said drolly.
“These young men in love know nothing about patience. I almost insisted he meet with me today to discuss the matter, but since it meant so much to him—and I presume Jane—I agreed immediately.”
“That is wonderful news!” Elizabeth said, and placing her cup, still half-full of tea, on the table, she embraced Jane.
Whispering into her sister’s ear, she added, “I am so very, very pleased for you. I cannot wait to meet your Mr Bingley.” For the moment, she would overlook that the gentleman who would be her brother was good friends with the gentleman who had broken her heart.
It did not matter, really; she expected Mr Darcy would stay away from her, either out of embarrassment or because, as a married man, it would be inappropriate for him to be friends with an unmarried woman who was not a relation.
There followed a discussion of the Netherfield ball, full of descriptions of the decorations, supper, dancing, and guests.
The chief speakers were Mrs Bennet, Kitty, and Lydia.
Elizabeth smiled and forced her thoughts to remain on her family rather than allowing them to drift to the balls she had attended with Mr Darcy, both in Dublin and London.
She expressly avoided recollecting the previous day.
Even the briefest reminder of it—from the care she had taken when dressing in anticipation of seeing him, to being at the ball and her later conversation with Mrs Ryde—made her want to crawl under the blankets on her bed and weep.
At moments, the same memories made her want to run across the fields and perhaps throw a rock or two at some target, as though the exercise would rid her of her anger and hurt.
When the conversation was redirected to her, Elizabeth asked to be excused. “I promise I shall tell you about my adventures, but after spending so long in the city and being in the carriage all morning, I long for fresh air. Will you be content to wait until dinner?”
“You do look pale, Lizzy,” her father said. “Mrs Bennet, we must allow her to know what she needs, and currently that is to be away from us once again.”
“Oh, Mr Bennet!” her mother cried. “How can you say such a thing?”
Her father was grinning, pleased at his joke, which—as often happened—her mother did not understand. Elizabeth chuckled and slipped her hand into her mother’s, giving it a light squeeze. “Papa was teasing, as you know he likes to do.”
Mrs Bennet sniffed and pinched her lips together. “He has never been as amusing as he believes he is.”
“Yes, Mama,” Elizabeth said as she had many times over the years when they had shared similar exchanges.
She smiled, and it felt like the first genuine one she had made since early yesterday.
It was good to be home. Soon, I shall forget Mr Darcy and what I hoped we would be to each other.
I refuse to be unhappy, and most of all, I refuse to let a man make me unhappy!