In Spite of All: A Love Unbroken

Chapter 1

Chapter One

TUESDAY 8 OCTOBER 1811

“ O h, Charlotte,” Elizabeth murmured, pulling her friend aside. “The assembly has only just begun, and already I am mortified by my mother. Look at her—hovering by the door, eagerly awaiting the party from Netherfield. She fully expects the new tenant to take one look at Jane and fall madly in love with her. And if he does not, she will be right there, practically shoving them together. She has it all planned—they will be married before the year is out. Never mind that no one knows what he looks like, his age, or even a hint about his character.”

“Poor Jane,” Charlotte replied with a sympathetic smile.

The commotion at the door caught Elizabeth's attention. “Look, it seems they have arrived.”

Charlotte leant closer, whispering, “The first gentleman is Charles Bingley, the new tenant. The two ladies with him must be his sisters, and the older man is likely his brother-in-law.”

Elizabeth nodded absently, her gaze following the group—until the final member of their party stepped into the room.

Her breath hitched, and for the first time in her life, she felt as though she might swoon.

She recognised him instantly. He was older now, his features more defined, but there was no mistaking Fitzwilliam Darcy, the master of Pemberley—and the man who had shattered her heart four years ago when he had failed to keep his promise to come for her.

A surge of panic gripped her. Unprepared to face him, she stepped behind her friend.

“What is the matter, Eliza?” Charlotte asked, her mouth agape, obviously surprised by the sudden action.

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It is nothing, Charlotte. It is simply that…” She sighed heavily again before finally confessing. “I met the tall gentleman several years ago when I visited Derbyshire with my Aunt Gardiner. I will explain later – please help me find a way to ignore my mother’s inevitable demand that I join her to be introduced to Mr. Bingley and his party.”

Before she could do anything, however, Charlotte’s mother summoned her back to their family. Offering Elizabeth an apologetic glance, Charlotte excused herself and complied with the request.

Elizabeth was quickly approached by her sister Mary. “Lizzy, Mama sent me to tell you to join us by Sir William so we can be introduced to Mr. Bingley and his party.” With a reluctant sigh, Elizabeth followed her sister, and together they made their way to where their mother stood.

As Sir William Lucas made the introductions, Elizabeth kept her gaze lowered, barely glancing at anyone. She heard Mr. Darcy’s soft gasp of surprise as he heard her name and glanced up, catching a flash of shock and pain in his expression.

After a moment, he interrupted the matron who was talking to his friend. “Did I hear correctly, Mrs. Bennet, when you said that none of your daughters have married? I thought I heard from someone that one of your daughters was already married. Or perhaps engaged?” he enquired, looking strangely at Elizabeth. She could not discern the meaning behind his expression, but she instinctively felt that the unspoken question was directed at her. Before she could react or respond, however, her mother answered in her stead.

Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush under his steady gaze, though he seemed to attempt, however poorly, to disguise his interest—or so she thought. Neither of them paid much attention to the matron’s response to his question.

“No, sir, none of my daughters are married or engaged yet, though I do hope that will change soon,” she said, her tone revealing her clear desire to see one of her daughters well-married. She subtly gestured towards the eldest. “Perhaps you would like to dance with one of my daughters. My eldest, Jane, is lovely and would be delighted to partner with you.”

At a glance from the gentleman, Elizabeth shot him a desperate look and subtly shook her head, silently imploring him not to ask her to dance right then.

“Not at this moment, madam,” he replied coldly. “I rarely dance and do not intend to do so this evening. I arrived from Derbyshire only this afternoon and am here tonight solely at the request of my friend.”

Mrs. Bennet attempted to persuade the gentleman to change his mind but to no avail. Having had enough, he abruptly took his leave, causing the matron to decry him as a most rude individual. Elizabeth stared after him for a moment until one of Charlotte’s brothers came to collect her for the next dance. She went with him, relieved to be away from her mother for a time and to sort her conflicted thoughts.

Did he believe I was married? Or that I am engaged to another? Where would he get such an idea? He has not had contact with me since I left Derbyshire. Not even Georgiana wrote to me as she promised. And he never came! Why would he think those things?

As she danced, her thoughts raced, rendering her far less talkative than usual. The distraction went unnoticed by her partner, who promptly departed as soon as the dance concluded.

It was just her luck that her partner left her near where Mr. Darcy stood against the wall when the dance concluded.

“Elizabeth.” She heard his furtive whisper and felt her heart race still at the sound of his voice. She blinked away tears as she contemplated what they had once been to each other and wondered, again, what had kept him away all these years.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered again, sounding nearly desperate. “Tell me, please, are you truly not married?”

“No, sir. Why would you think that? Four years ago, I believed myself engaged, but the only gentleman I will ever love broke his promise to me and disappeared without a word of explanation. I no longer expect him to come for me—and I do not know what his purpose might be if he were to appear suddenly after all these years of silence.” She could not hide the pain in her voice or the slight catch that broke through as she spoke the final words.

“What do you mean?” he asked harshly. “I wrote to you; I wrote to your father; I wrote to your aunt and uncle. But not once did I receive a response to any of my letters to Hertfordshire, and your aunt and uncle could offer no information. I visited your home to obtain your father’s consent, as promised, but your father said you were away and denied my request. Even though I had not heard from you, I returned to Longbourn a year later and was told by your father you were on your wedding trip. I was heartbroken.”

“What? You came to Longbourn twice, and I never knew of either attempt? My father told you I was married? Why would he do that? I swear, I would never have married another,” she said more loudly than she intended. Fortunately, the music was loud, and thus far, their conversation had not attracted attention.

“We cannot speak here, not now,” she said after a moment had passed and neither of them had spoken again. “I will walk out in the morning to a place called Oakham Mount. If you ask any of the grooms at Netherfield, they will direct you. I will be there at sunrise; we might speak openly.”

“Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered, his voice low and filled with longing. His eyes searched her face with an intensity that made her breath catch, and when she finally looked up to meet his gaze, she saw the anguish there. “I have missed you desperately. I do not know what happened, but I have never stopped loving you.”

She felt her heart twist at his words, the raw emotion in his voice piercing through her carefully built defences. Her own voice was barely a whisper as she replied, “Nor I you, Fitzwilliam.” She dared a brief, fleeting smile before she turned and slipped away, casting a wary glance in her mother’s direction, hoping not to draw her notice.

Darcy watched her for several more minutes as he stood against the wall. Memories flooded him from their time together four years ago, followed soon after with additional memories of the months that had followed. Such supreme happiness followed by intense heartbreak. He could not reconcile the two, nor did he understand what could have occurred. Why did she blame him for not returning when he had? So absorbed was he in these thoughts that he did not notice someone else approaching.

Miss Caroline Bingley, his friend's insufferable sister, latched onto his arm, clearly trying to give the impression to the townsfolk that they had an understanding. As he attempted to free himself from her grasp, the turmoil of his thoughts led him to respond with less tact than usual.

“Miss Bingley, kindly remove your hand. It is highly inappropriate for you to take my arm uninvited. I do not care for grasping women, and I do not appreciate you attempting to create an illusion of closeness between us that does not exist. You will never be more to me than the sister of my friend.”

His tone was sharp, his composure frayed by the encounter with Elizabeth Bennet after so many years—and by the discovery that she was still unmarried. Questions filled his mind, for her and for her father.

“Mr. Darcy, whatever do you mean? Surely you must realise I am ideally suited to be the mistress of Pemberley,” she cried.

“I know nothing of the sort. We are neither engaged nor married, and we never will be.”

“Mr. Darcy!” she cried again, this time louder and garnering his notice.

“Be quiet!” he hissed through gritted teeth. “If you intend to create a scene hoping to force me into marrying you, I assure you that will never happen,” he said.

Miss Bingley snapped her mouth closed, whatever she intended to say or do forgotten.

“Now, I will seek out your brother and return to Netherfield—alone. I do not need you to accompany me, and I will not be compromised by you. Remember that I can walk away from a compromise with my reputation only slightly tarnished while yours would be utterly ruined. Keep that in mind if you are considering trying anything while we are staying under the same roof.” Darcy issued his warning in whispered tones, but even Miss Bingley seemed to recognise a measure of determination in his tone. She nodded and wandered away in a state of shock, finding her sister and reporting what had been said.

Darcy sought out his friend and found him speaking to Elizabeth’s elder sister, Miss Bennet. “Bingley, my headache has worsened, and I am returning to Netherfield immediately. I have already informed your sister that there is no need for any of you to join me. I will send the carriage back for you.”

“Oh, I hope you will be well, Mr. Darcy. My sister Elizabeth also developed a headache and escaped outside a moment ago. I suppose she only needed a bit of fresh air,” Jane replied softly.

Darcy nodded absently. “Thank you. If you will excuse me,” he muttered, offering a brief bow before quickly turning and hurrying away.

Rather than calling for the carriage, he stepped outside, searching for Elizabeth.

He found her hidden behind some bushes, surprised to discover her in tears. “Elizabeth, my darling, what is wrong? Why are you crying?”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam!” she cried, “I do not understand any of this. I repeatedly asked my father if he heard from you, but he always said he had not. When you did not come here to request my father’s consent, or answer my letters, I thought you had changed your mind about our engagement. How could my father have told you I was on my wedding trip? Why has he lied to me all these years? This makes no sense.” Not wanting to be discovered, she spoke quietly, but even her soft voice could not disguise the anger and hurt in her voice.

Without thinking, he pulled her into his embrace. She came willingly, sobbing into his chest as he held her tightly. After several moments, he felt her begin to calm, and he spoke in a low voice, careful not to be overheard by anyone nearby.

“I do not understand it either, dearest. I came to Longbourn twice to speak with your father. Each time, I hoped to see you and hear from you directly, to confirm what he had told me. In London, I also visited your uncle at his home and his business, but I learned nothing of you. He neither confirmed nor denied your father's words. He only insisted that I speak to your father, who had the final say in your marriage.”

Elizabeth continued to allow herself to be held by him and drew strength from his familiar embrace. “I admit, I am afraid to ask him why. If he learns we have met again, will he act to separate us? Mama will speak of your presence here in Meryton, and I cannot imagine Papa will have forgotten your name.” She paused and removed her head from where it rested on his chest and cried. “Oh, Fitzwilliam! He will hear your name in the morning, and I know he will do what he can to keep me away from you as he clearly has done in the past. Why did he refuse you and say nothing of it to me? Why did he lie to us both?” She was still crying as she finished, and he only held her more tightly.

After several minutes, he spoke: “Come with me now to Netherfield. I believe there are still many months until you reach your majority,” he said, looking down at her for confirmation. Elizabeth nodded, and he continued. “For whatever reason, your father has gone to extraordinary lengths to keep us apart. If your father would lie to both of us for all these years, I cannot imagine he will allow us to be together now. I, too, am afraid that once he learns of my presence at Netherfield, he will take action to separate us.”

“Elizabeth, fate has brought us together again. We will not be thwarted by your father or anyone else. Let us travel to Scotland and marry over the anvil. We can leave tonight. Once we are married, your father cannot prevent us from being together.”

“Are you certain, Fitzwilliam?” she asked, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye. “It would be a scandal.”

“I have wanted to marry you for years; I can bear the scandal, dearest.”

“I have nothing with me, not even my cloak. It is still inside the assembly hall.” Elizabeth snuggled deeper into his arms, not wanting to let him go.

“What if we met at sunrise, as you suggested? Will your father still be awake when you return home tonight? Would he prevent you from walking out if he learned I was here?”

Elizabeth again pulled back to look at the man she had loved for four years. “It is unlikely, but he can be unpredictable.”

“You know I will gladly purchase anything you need as we travel north,” he said, smiling down at her tenderly.

She smiled at him. “I do know that. I still wear your ring, though no longer on my finger. I could not since Mama would have questioned me about it, and I did not know what Papa would have said. When I told him you would come, he did not believe it was true, and I thought he would mock me for my faith in you.”

“Where do you wear it then?” he asked, looking her over carefully

“It is hidden—tied into the laces of my stays.” She blushed profusely and hid her eyes.

Darcy gently lifted her chin with his fingers, ensuring their eyes met. As their gazes locked, a fleeting brush of their lips sent a shiver through him. After a moment, he drew back, taking a deep shuddering breath. “You are even more tempting now than you were at sixteen, my love. I do not care whether we begin now or at first light; one way or another, I will not let another fortnight pass before making you my wife. What will it be, Elizabeth?”

He watched her as she weighed her options, her expressive face a canvas of shifting emotions: joy, disappointment, sorrow, and above all, love. Finally, resolve sparked in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“I do not wish to take the chance that my father will discover your presence here. We must leave tonight. Let me go inside and inform my sister that I am walking home,” she replied, her voice steady. “I have no objection to you taking me part of the way in your carriage. Once I arrive, I will pack a few things for our journey and change into something more suitable for travelling. I would rather not set off for Scotland in this gown. This way, our housekeeper will see me arrive home and that I have gone to bed with a headache, giving us more time before anyone discovers I am gone. We can meet in an hour at the same spot where you leave me. No one will miss me until tomorrow morning when I fail to join the family for breakfast,” she explained, her determination clear.

“I will call for Bingley’s carriage,” Darcy responded, a rush of exhilaration flooding through him. “We can take my carriage north, and I will leave a note saying I was called away. As soon as we are able, I will hire an additional coachman so we might travel faster and longer each day. With any luck, we will be at Gretna Green in less than a se’nnight.”

They both rushed to do as they said, and before the dance ended that evening, they were heading north. At a stop later the next morning, Darcy hired two express riders—one going north to Pemberley and the other to go south to Hertfordshire before going on to London.