Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jane was alone in the front drawing room when Elizabeth entered. She stretched out her hands. “I am so happy, dear Lizzy. If only everyone could be so happy!”
Elizabeth gathered her sister into her embrace.
“No one could be as happy as you, dearest.” She broke away from Jane, and wiped a tear from her sister’s cheek, her own heart aching.
Her beautiful, generous-spirited sister was to be married for love!
Such wonderful news, but it meant that Jane would soon leave Longbourn forever.
Elizabeth was still shaken from Mr Lucas’s terrible proposal.
She longed to speak of it but now was not the time—nothing should distract Jane from her elation.
She swallowed away tears of her own, setting aside her tumultuous feelings to make way for her sister’s delight.
An indistinct shrill call echoed through the house.
Jane sighed, “That will be Mama. Oh Lizzy, she fainted when she heard the news. I shall go to her now—it will be me she wants. She does not know you have returned. Take some time to change out of your wet clothes. I would not like you to become ill.”
Elizabeth nodded gratefully. As soon as the door was shut, she sank into a nearby chair and buried her face in her hands.
Her head ached dreadfully. Mr Lucas’s proposal forced its way back into her mind.
Abominable, spoilt man! All he had done was confirm to Elizabeth that she was right to refuse him.
She did not deserve his insults. A great well of emotion that had been building inside her finally broke.
Hot tears splashed down her cheeks. As she fumbled for a handkerchief, she heard a man’s voice behind the door.
Expecting to see her father or Mr Bingley, she stood quickly, wiping her eyes.
To her great surprise, Mr Darcy stepped across the threshold.
He took one look at her face and swiftly crossed the room, the door swinging shut behind him. “Good God, what is the matter?”
Elizabeth blinked rapidly. “Nothing is wrong. I am well, I assure you. Jane and Mr Bingley are engaged, and I am overcome with happiness.”
“You are very pale.” He regarded her closely before casting his eyes over her clothes. “And you are soaked through, Miss Elizabeth. Permit me to move your chair closer to the fire.”
Without waiting for her response, Mr Darcy dragged an armchair closer to the hearth.
He secured a blanket that was folded in one corner and handed it to her with awkward gallantry.
Thanking him, she wrapped it over her shoulders and sat down, the warmth from the smouldering coals spreading slowly over her body.
He sat on the chair opposite, regarding her intently, the warm firelight flickering against the handsome planes of his face.
“Pardon my impertinence, Miss Elizabeth, but I must say you look miserable. As your friend, I urge you to tell me if there is any way I may be of assistance to you.”
His gentle, solicitous tone was so different from the scorn in Mr Lucas’s voice. Her lip trembled and a fresh wave of tears stung her eyes. The desire to shake off this burden was too great. Choking back a sob, she said, “I have just had the most awful encounter.”
In faltering accents, Elizabeth relayed what she could of Mr Lucas’s proposal.
It was too humiliating to repeat the part where he accused her of mercenary intentions, so instead she focussed on his scathing attack on her family and his repeated insistence that she should be grateful for his notice.
Her heart heavy, she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the fire, scarcely knowing why she thought it a good idea to expose Mr Darcy to all her woes.
He remained silent and she only risked a glance at him once there was nothing left for her to say.
His expression was positively thunderous.
“I cannot imagine what possessed him to speak to you with such presumption. I have a good mind to meet privately with Mr Lucas to remind him how a gentlewoman should be addressed.”
“No!” Elizabeth shook her head vehemently. “Can you not see how that would make things worse? I should never have told you any of it. None of this is your concern. I am sorry to have told you, my tongue ran away with me.”
“Grieved as I am that you have suffered, I am honoured that you have entrusted your confidence to me.”
She wiped away her tears and smiled weakly. “You can be assured that I spoke my mind very clearly to Mr Lucas. I do not think he will be in a hurry to seek out my company.”
“I shall put a quiet word in Bingley’s ear, and you can be sure he will never be admitted to Netherfield.”
“Please do not mention it today. I want nothing to detract from their happiness. In fact, the fewer people who know, the better.”
Mr Darcy nodded. “You have my word.”
This mention of Mr Bingley and Netherfield recalled Elizabeth to her senses. “But where are my manners? I should have offered you some refreshment. My mother will be in the drawing room. Shall I call for some tea to be sent there?”
“Your butler sent me here believing I might encounter Bingley. I knew of his intentions to propose to your sister—he confided his plans to me yesterday. I came to wish him well and to inform him that I will depart for London soon.”
“You are leaving?” Elizabeth could not hide the disappointment in her voice. “How long will you be away?”
“I wish to spend Christmas with my sister, who is presently in Mayfair.” His expression darkened. “Although my plans may change.”
“Do you mean to return to Netherfield?” Elizabeth asked, alarmed by his serious demeanour. “I have no notion of Mr Bingley and Jane’s arrangements once they are married.”
Mr Darcy’s expression softened at her reference to his friend. “I doubt Bingley has thought beyond this morning. A truer heart your sister will not find, but if he has a fault, it is that his nature is too spontaneous and impressionable.”
She smiled, glad to see some of the tension leave his expression. “And you do not like Mr Bingley’s impetuous decision-making? You find him too impulsive?”
“I prefer my head and heart to be in agreement in all matters.” He looked at her with one of his comprehensive stares that made her heart flutter. There was a pause, and Mr Darcy turned his attention to the burning coals, stoking them with a poker, a burst of embers flying up the chimney.
Was that comment meant for me? Heat prickled at her neck at the thought, but she hid her discomfort by replying in a lively tone, “But you are sensible, Mr Darcy. Not everyone has the advantage of being rational.”
Mr Darcy made no answer to this, his eyes lingering on the blanket around her shoulders. “I should leave you, Miss Elizabeth. I do not want you to catch a cold.”
The note of concern in his voice was very affecting.
Momentarily flustered, she rang for Mr Harris.
“I believe Mr Bingley is with my father. I wish you a safe journey to London and I pray your Christmas will be more peaceful than mine.” Not knowing when she would see him next, she offered Mr Darcy her hand, and he bent low over it, his lips brushing against her skin.
“Farewell, Miss Elizabeth.”
The celebrations at Longbourn were raucous and joyful, but Elizabeth could not appreciate them fully. Her heart was too heavy, her mind too full to be good company. She excused herself at the earliest opportunity, claiming a headache.
She had walked only two steps up the staircase when she heard her name. “Miss Elizabeth!” Mr Harris approached; his forehead creased. “I am glad to have found you.” He shuffled to a stop in front of her, a gnarled hand outstretched, a crumpled letter within it.
“What do you have there?”
“When Mr Darcy called earlier, I removed his coat. After he left, I saw this had fallen to the floor. My first thought was to give it to your father, but then I wondered if—” He hesitated, and Elizabeth guessed the reason for his reticence.
“If my father could be trusted to deal with this matter in an organised and timely fashion?”
“I came to you because I understand that Mr Darcy enjoys your company. I hoped you would ensure its safe return.”
“Regretfully, I am not sure I can be of assistance. I am afraid Mr Darcy has already left for London and will stay there for some time. I do not know when I will see him again.”
“Very well. I shall pass it on to Mr Bennet.”
“No, wait—” Elizabeth reached out to take the note. She knew as well as Mr Harris that Mr Darcy’s letter would languish on a pile of unread correspondence on her father’s desk. “I expect it will be of some importance if he had it with him. Perhaps I could discreetly hand it to Mr Bingley?”
Mr Harris nodded with no small amount of relief. “I am grateful to you.”
Thanking him for his diligence, she continued to her room.
Upon entering it, she did not ring for their maid immediately.
In all likelihood, Jane would be detained a while longer downstairs, and Elizabeth was grateful for the solitude.
Sitting heavily on the bed, Elizabeth turned the letter over in her hands.
It felt strange, having something of Mr Darcy’s in her possession.
Why did he have this tormenting effect on her?
It was not so long ago that she thought she did not like him.
Closing her eyes, she pictured him in front of the fire, offering her that blanket.
There was a hidden depth to him, a quiet goodness that was only apparent on closer acquaintance.
He could be proud, but had he not taken her advice and made an effort to be more sociable?
What had he meant when he spoke of his head and heart?
She sighed. There was no use in thinking any more about it.
Opening her eyes, she rose from the bed, letter in hand to lock it away in her desk.
The seal had already been broken and a small scrap of paper fluttered to the floor.
It was impossible for Elizabeth not to read the words scribbled thereon.
One thousand pounds or the world will learn of your sister’s shame.
GW