Chapter 11
Scarcely a week later,the news came that the couple were wed and intended to visit Longbourn and Meryton before departing for the north. The next day, Lydia Wickham, née Bennet, pulled up to the house in a fancy post-chaise with her new husband in tow.
Though Mr. Bennet had intended to refuse them entry to the house, Mrs. Bennet simply swept up her daughter in her arms with a loud cry of “Oh, Lydia! My darling daughter, married so soon!” and that was that. To everyone’s relief except the mother, Mr. Wickham informed them they could not stay the night and were there only for an afternoon before their travels urged them onward toward his new posting.
Elizabeth made her opinion of Mr. Wickham’s behavior well-known, though she was cordial for the sake of her parents. Lydia kept bragging about all of the sights she would see and how much more sophistication the role of marriage required of a lady, leaving her sisters speechless for different reasons than she might assume. The whole affair was akin to a comedy play where the ensemble had not had time to memorize the third act.
Then, as an aside, the young bride inadvertently revealed a bit too much about her wedding ceremony.
Mr. Darcy was there.
Mrs. Gardiner had said nothing of his presence at the couple’s nuptials, nor had Mr. Gardiner. Naturally, Elizabeth wrote to her aunt and recounted Lydia’s words, how she had been sworn to secrecy and her refusal to say more about the matter.
A week later, she had her answer: Mr. Darcy had arranged everything and paid it all. Mr. Gardiner hadn’t contributed a farthing. In accordance with the astonishing news that Elizabeth now had to keep secret, another surprise descended on the Bennet household: Netherfield was vacant no more.
The next day, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy visited Pemberley, unannounced.
As Mrs. Bennet rushed to direct the servants to bring tea and prepare extra places at the table, Elizabeth’s thoughts darted between relief at the obvious renewal of awkward poses and secret smiles between Jane and Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy’s usual inscrutable demeanor.
It would be deathly awkward for him to refuse to stay. The gentlemen had arrived late in the afternoon, too late for regular tea and a mere half an hour before the evening meal. All common sense told her Mr. Darcy would not be keen to listen to Mrs. Bennet’s saccharine compliments of his friend Charles.
Yet Mr. Darcy was here, in her home, neglecting no other social graces save a smile and a forewarning of their arrival.
He turned to her parents. “Forgive me for the timing of our visit. It is my fault alone. I insisted we leave right away to see the good news for ourselves so that I might report back to my physician and alleviate the worries of both of our households. I am glad to see the patient has recovered fully,” he said, gesturing at Elizabeth’s leg. “I can only attribute such a remarkable turn in constitution to both Miss Elizabeth’s indomitable will and the strength she draws from her family.” Then, a rare expression of warmth from him, though Elizabeth could not, would not, assume too much. “If indeed it is your wish that we dine with you, then we happily accept, for I would experience for myself the curative powers that give your daughter such restoration.”
Kitty giggled, to Jane’s horror. Mary looked as if she had the perfect Biblical proverb to announce, but Elizabeth grabbed her wrist and squeezed until her mouth closed.
Mr. Bennet stepped forward. “Mr. Darcy, let us not preamble. You have saved my daughter’s life. You and your friends are and will always be welcome at Longbourn for as long as I am Master of it.”
He held out his hand. Mr. Darcy, either out of a delay in his reaction or disbelief, returned the gesture without speech. Mr. Bennet shook it and clapped his shoulder. “Well, then. I suggest we enjoy the meal and hear about the most exciting adventure any of my daughters have had thus far.” With a meaningful look at all of them, he escorted the party into the dining room.
“Lizzy,”Jane whispered as they readied themselves for bed, “is there a name for the strangeness of our current situation?” She felt her cheeks, as if the absence of heat would prove they were always pale. “Even now, I worry all I did was blush as bright as beetroot.”
“If there is a term for our predicament, the English tongue knows it not.” Elizabeth laughed. “For a day ago, you and Mr. Bingley were as strangers, and now I fear you are both in danger of falling in love all over again.”
“I have no high expectations, Lizzy.” Jane sniffed. “Now that we are acquainted once more, I hope—though mayhap it is rude to wish for such a change in another person by implying their previous state was so undesirable—now that Mr. Bingley and I are friends again, perhaps Caroline and even Mrs. Hurst will not avoid our company… no, no, Lizzy, I can see you rolling your eyes from across the room. There are few friends outside of our family with such worldly experience and varied subjects of discourse, and if the Bingleys are to stay at Netherfield, it would be a shame to limit their company over whatever petty grievance Caroline may have had.”
“It is clear Caroline thought her brother too good for you and meant to discourage your possible union, Jane.”
“It is clear that is what she wished me to think.”
Elizabeth turned, frowning. “What other conclusion may we draw from her actions? You yourself were convinced of her disdain months ago.”
“I am not saying it is not so, only that Caroline may have thought such disapproval was her duty and acted upon it without dedication to the task.”
Jane was staring at a spot on the floor. Elizabeth gently took her hands in her own and knelt in front of her. “My dear sister, you have the biggest heart in the world. Would that every soul be half as pure as yours, the sun would never set on any quarrel or tears across civilization. Alas, it is not so. Mortal flesh is weak, and envious, and scared, and cruel, just as Caroline was cruel, be it out of misguided affection for her brother or more spiteful thoughts. Regardless, it was her actions that wounded you, so it is by her actions that we should judge her.
“She need not have slighted you on her visit to the Gardiner’s or refused to receive you at their flat. If her dedication and care toward Mr. Bingley were true, he would have perceived that long before now. She would have had such influence on his ways that no lady, however frequent her appearance, would cause her any worry unless it were warranted. Well,” Elizabeth said, shrugging, “I will not slight Mr. Bingley, but I suppose it is always possible that a man’s judgment might not be swayed, even by a beloved sister. Not all families are as ours. Still, anyone who has known you for more than a few days understands your motives to be genuine.”
“Yes, but—”
“Therefore, Caroline’s interests are likely of a personal nature. Perhaps she wants the connections of a more advantageous match than the Bennet family. But she must accomplish that on her own.” Elizabeth smiled and squeezed Jane’s hands. “For Mr. Bingley has eyes for no other.”
At this, Jane did blush.
Elizabeth lay awakefor a long time after Jane fell asleep. Her disquiet was not due to the outcome of the evening, nor the lengthy recounting of her dramatic fall into the stream or the rescue, which she all but forced Mr. Darcy to narrate in case he was uncomfortable recalling how she had more or less rescued him after he had saved her. His story was a compromise, of sorts: he had glossed over the details of them emerging from the water, focusing on the difficulty of escaping the current and saying he had almost succumbed himself. While she was mildly annoyed at the thought of receiving no credit, it was her own recklessness that had put her life at risk. Had Mr. Darcy not chased her and risked his own life, she would probably have drowned.
No, what weighed on her conscience was if she, not Lydia, had ruined any chance of a pairing between herself and Mr. Darcy by falling into that stream.
She owed him her continued existence. They had spent at least half an hour alone in the woods together in an unsightly state of dishabillé, she especially. Even the extenuating circumstances could not erase what they had seen, how she had felt looking at the contours of his body, swaddled in wet wool and silk. The memory of those short moments yet inflamed desires with which she had little acquaintance.
If she was not already ruined by happenstance, she was by transformation. For she was not Miss Elizabeth, the secretly impertinent daughter of gentle people; she was Elizabeth Bennet, forged in dark turgid waters, tempered in a raging fever, brushed by scandal, wary and regretful of the prejudice that put her sister at risk and had caused her to reject a good man.
Fitzwilliam Darcy was a good man. She needed no proof on that account. And good men acted out of duty and honor, no matter the personal sacrifice. Mr. Darcy had blunted the spear that society might wield against the Bennets. Mrs. Gardiner had relayed the reasoning Mr. Darcy had given her own husband for discharging Wickham’s debts. Would he insist on marrying her, too, out of a sense of obligation?
Would she have the strength to refuse? She knew she would not. But what a damnation, to marry for propriety and never know one’s true feelings!
There were far grimmer fates. Poverty. Disease. Marriage to Mr. Collins. Or Wickham. Drowning.
That made her feel no better.
“Stupid, stupid,” she hissed out loud, angrily wiping away tears. It could always be worse. After all, he could believe his obligation fulfilled already. She might have to watch him marry another.
The thought made bile rise in her throat. She forced it down. Was not her health and a name free of scandal enough? She was one of the luckiest women in all of England.
Evidently, her heart thought otherwise.
But hearts could heal. She would heal, from everything. One day soon, her life would no longer rest on the precipice of the unknown.