Chapter 25
Is he already gone? But he said his meeting was at eleven, Elizabeth repeated to herself as she returned to her chamber. Disappointment washed over her. He said they would meet at breakfast. He said he would send word when he could. He… What could that mean?
She glanced through the window at the empty street; at that hour, people and carriages were scarce.
Where could her husband be? A sense of foreboding descended over her despite her attempts to calm herself.
Maybe he had forgotten something that needed to be taken care of before his meeting.
After all, regardless of the reason, he had every right to attend to his business at any hour.
During their surprisingly honest and heartfelt conversation, Elizabeth’s emotions had been intense.
She had discovered the disturbing story behind her husband’s actions — including his decision to marry her — and was genuinely pained on his behalf and willing to help him.
However, the more lasting impression was the sensation of his warm hands holding hers.
How could she be so shallow? He had revealed so many things, and she vividly remembered that he had said he cared for her and wished to protect her.
He had said she should not feel alone because she had him.
Why did those words affect her so deeply when she had discovered many more distressing secrets?
Suddenly, Mr Thomas Crawford’s visit — which she had anticipated with such eagerness and about which she had argued with her father, her sister, and her husband — lost some of its importance, and Elizabeth’s thoughts dwelt mostly upon Mr Darcy.
For a moment, it crossed her mind that, although she had longed to meet another relative on her mother’s side of the family, at present, her closest relative, her closest family, was her husband.
Until breakfast, when she joined her father and sister, Elizabeth could find no peace and no appetite. She dressed for a day that she expected to be eventful and went to the breakfast room, wondering what other surprises she would have to face.
“Is Mr Darcy already gone? So early?” her father enquired when they found her alone.
“Yes, some urgent matters required his presence earlier than anticipated.”
“Lizzy, do you know when Mr Bingley will call today?”
“I know as little as you do, Jane. Probably around noon, which would be a proper hour for a visit.”
“Then should we expect Mr Crawford at the same time?”
“Probably,” Elizabeth repeated, glancing towards the door, hoping for news from her husband. He had now been gone for more than two hours, and ignorance was difficult to bear.
The more impatient Elizabeth became, the slower the time seemed to pass.
Sometime after breakfast, an express rider arrived with a letter, and Elizabeth rose in panic, but the message was addressed to Mr Bennet.
“What is it, Papa?” Elizabeth asked with alarm as her father read the note, his countenance changing. He put the letter down, looking at his daughters with a troubled expression.
“It is from your mother. Mrs Bennet will join us in London tomorrow, bringing Lydia and Kitty with her.”
“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth and Jane exclaimed at the same time.
“Before you ask, I am as ignorant of her reasons as you are, since as you know, I was going to return to Longbourn tomorrow. I cannot imagine what induced her to change her plans.”
“They cannot come here, so suddenly, without an invitation or allowing me time to discuss it with Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said severely.
“Especially not now, with everything that is happening.” Her anxiety turned into frustration and anger; once more, her stepmother had acted with no consideration for anyone.
She was probably curious about Mr Crawford, about Jane and their father’s prolonged stay in London, and she had simply decided to turn up, without asking anyone’s permission.
Elizabeth could not allow her stepmother to bother Mr Darcy when he already suffered so much sorrow and turmoil over his sister.
The last thing he needed was Mrs Bennet’s shrill impertinence, vulgarity, and lack of decorum.
“Lizzy, you cannot send your mother away!” Mr Bennet replied.
“I cannot allow my family to invade my husband’s home uninvited! I am sorry, Papa, but I shall not allow Mother to impose her will over me again. You should write to her and tell her to wait for you at home.”
“By the time she receives it, everything will already be prepared for the journey, Lizzy,” her father answered, pensive and uncomfortable.
“Then you should beg Uncle and Aunt to allow them to stay in Gracechurch Street. Jane may stay here with me, of course, because you were both invited by Mr Darcy. There is a distinction and Mother must learn to accept it.”
With that, Elizabeth left the room, hurrying to her chamber, barely keeping her composure.
That was the final straw that would certainly turn the situation from bad to worse.
Did her father truly not know about such a plan, or was he humouring his wife, as he had done her entire life?
All the years when she had been hurt by her stepmother’s unfair treatment returned to torment Elizabeth; this time, she could not be forced to accept any further imposition, any compromise.
If her father was not able to shield and protect her, she could do it herself.
She was not Lizzy Bennet any longer but Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.
And she had her husband’s protection — she knew she could rely on him.
In a perturbed state of mind, she continued to pace about the room.
Concerned for her husband, upset she knew nothing about him, angry with her stepmother for yet another act of insolence and with her father for another example of his weakness, Elizabeth lost the fight against her frustration, and tears clouded her eyes — signs of her own weakness, one she had loathed since she was a child.
With all her and her husband’s fortune and consequence, with her new position as mistress of a household of over twenty servants in London and God only knew how many at Pemberley, she was still in danger of being harassed to the point of tears by her stepmother, with her father’s silent complicity.
“Lizzy, may I come in, please?”
Jane’s soft voice and gentle knock made Elizabeth wipe her tears.
“Of course, dearest.”
“Lizzy, I am so sorry about Mama,” Jane said as she stepped inside. “I am sure she means well. She probably misses us and wants to know how you are settling into your marriage…”
“Did you write to her about Mr Bingley, Jane?”
“I might have mentioned him in my last letter, the morning after your dinner party…”
Elizabeth sighed. “I cannot blame you. But that is why she is coming — to try to settle things with Mr Bingley and Mr Crawford the way she wishes. And I doubt that either of these gentlemen — or Mr Darcy — will approve of her intervention.”
“I am sorry you are upset,” Jane said, embracing her. “And I am well aware of how unfair Mama has been to you over the years. What should I do now?”
“There is nothing you can do as she will not listen to anyone. Perhaps it is for the best — she might actually learn something this time.”
“Lizzy, I also came to tell you Mr Bingley is here…”
“Oh… Please take Papa and keep him company in the blue parlour until I come downstairs. You may order tea or anything you want. I shall be with you shortly.”
Jane nodded and left, while Elizabeth tried to adjust her appearance.
She glanced at her face in the mirror, dried her tears, and lifted her curls into a more becoming arrangement using a few pins.
Animated by a sudden impulse, she decided to change her gown for a more fashionable one and to put on a tasteful set of jewellery gifted by her husband.
As shallow as such a gesture was in such trying times, it calmed her and helped her regain some composure.
The elegant young lady looking back at her from the mirror looked more like her determined self, and she felt better prepared to confront whatever else the day would bring.
When she finally joined the others in the drawing room, Colonel Fitzwilliam was there too. She greeted everyone with a smile and a welcome word, while the gentlemen bowed and complimented her on her appearance.
“Are you going out, Mrs Darcy?” the colonel asked.
“No, my entire day is dedicated to my gentlemen callers, Colonel,” she answered with a smile.
Jane and Mr Bingley were sitting next to each other, her father on a separate chair, while the colonel took the place beside Elizabeth on the sofa.
“Colonel, have you spoken to my husband today?” Elizabeth whispered to him.
“No…I know he had business with Mr Gardiner…” the colonel said with some uncertainty.
“Yes, I know all the details about that particular business, but he left earlier than planned. I am still waiting for word from him.”
“Try not to be anxious. He told me he has everything under control. If he did not, I would have gone with him. He is in good company there.”
“I hope so. I know so. Still, I greatly anticipate this day being over,” she confessed with a sigh.
Waiting for Mr Crawford’s visit, Elizabeth realised she was not restless or anxious about him but about her husband; in fact, she anticipated her cousin coming and going so she could think of other matters in peace.
After all, once the introductions were made, with the coincidence of them living in the same neighbourhood, she would be able to see her cousin again at any time, under better circumstances.
Eventually, a servant announced the visitor, and Mr Thomas Crawford entered. He was dressed elegantly, very much the young man of fashion, his features pleasant and rather handsome, and he greeted them with a proper, polite bow.
“I am very glad to welcome you, sir! Please sit. I assume you remember my father, my sister Jane, Mr Bingley, and Colonel Fitzwilliam.”