Chapter 2 The Whims of Fate
Elizabeth stood outside Longbourn, looking at the home she had loved for two decades.
The house appeared to have shrunk since she left, even though it was less than two months ago.
The home where she had spent her childhood had not provided her with the comfort she expected when she espied it through the barren trees.
Instead, she had felt a pang in her chest robbing her of her breath.
It is the bitter reality of it. To return home as the discarded wife.
Elizabeth should be glad Mr Darcy had not offered her up for auction with a halter round her neck.
It was not unheard of for a husband to sell his wife when the marriage was particularly unsatisfactory.
There were even rumours circulating about local poor law commissioners forcing husbands to sell their wives to save pennies rather than having to maintain them at the workhouses…
Longbourn looked deserted in the faint evening light. It lay quiet, surrounded by the frost-covered garden. No lights were lit in the front parlour, and no curious faces appeared in any of the windows. Perhaps not so strange considering she had arrived on foot and not in a rattling carriage.
To avoid gossip, she had not stepped off the coach in Meryton.
If she had, the rumours of her downfall would have been spread all over the town by morning.
Instead, she had left the coach at East Hyde and walked the two and a half miles, choosing to follow a path across the woodland rather than the road through town.
Elizabeth must speak to her father. A story would have to be concocted; she could not divulge the truth. Her remaining sisters’ reputations would suffer most grievously should the sordid tale of her fall from grace become known.
The cold was seeping through her bones; she needed to take the next step soon.
A window opened, and her father’s white hair appeared in the small slit.
“Elizabeth?”
Mr Bennet never called her Elizabeth; it was always my Lizzy. His lack of endearment widened the gap between Elizabeth and her old home.
“Yes.” She could not pretend she was not there when he had obviously observed her.
“Come in, child, it is freezing out there.”
Of their own volition one foot stepped in front of the other.
The quietness she had perceived from outside the house continued inside.
No one came to greet her. It must be Mrs Hill’s half day off, and none of the maids had noticed her arrival, which was probably for the best. Elizabeth divested herself of her cloak and scarf before she entered her father’s book-room.
“Where is everyone?”
“It is Tuesday and the night of the assembly.”
How could I have forgotten? Two months had erased a lifetime. Elizabeth slumped into the chair in front of her father’s desk. Her fatigue was likely evident on her countenance, but she had not the strength to conceal it.
“What brings you here, Elizabeth? And on foot as far as I can tell.”
Mr Bennet’s eyebrows rose towards his hairline. Elizabeth had thought it would be difficult to disclose her disgrace to her father. It was not. In a flat voice not her own she explained, without emotion, the events that had brought her to his door.
Her father’s expression was folded in grave lines when she finished her tale.
Not a glimmer of humour nor sarcasm could be discerned.
He rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers whilst looking unseeingly in front of him.
The silence stretched on for many minutes, but Elizabeth did not mind.
The peace was comforting after travelling on the cramped stagecoach, with chattering strangers importuning her with all kinds of prying questions she could not answer.
“I should never have consented to the marriage,” Mr Bennet admitted dejectedly.
“Do not trouble yourself, Father. You could not have known—”
Mr Bennet shook his head in denial.
“I am familiar enough with these men of elevated rank and their puffed-up perception of their own self-importance to know better. They care for none but themselves and their prized connections.”
“Mr Darcy is not like that. He is a respected landlord and master,” Elizabeth defended her husband.
“Yes, he deserves our respect for throwing his wife out of his house in the middle of winter!” Mr Bennet chuckled mirthlessly. His sarcasm had not left him, after all.
“May I stay here?” Elizabeth winced at the pleading tone in her voice.
Mr Bennet looked at her with sorrowful eyes.
“You may stay for the time being, but only until I can contrive another solution.
I cannot offer you much, but I shall provide for you in some manner.
You must understand, Elizabeth, when this becomes known, it will create problems for your sisters.
Mary is being courted by the new curate in Meryton.
He cannot afford to marry her yet and, in his profession, not at all with a fallen sister.
“I suggest we tell everyone that Mr Darcy escorted you here. He left due to pressing business in town, and you have come to visit your family whilst he is occupied. Regardless of what we tell the quidnuncs, when a bride visits her parents so soon after speaking her vows, there will be gossip about trouble in your marriage. If you stay too long, it will confirm the rumours. Do you think Mr Darcy will confide your breach to his friends and family?”
“I cannot say for certain, but I doubt he will spread the sordid tale. Mr Darcy is a private man who does not rattle on as other young men are prone to do.”
No matter the chasm between them, Elizabeth could not imagine Mr Darcy would ruin her in the eyes of society. If not for the sake of her reputation, then to avoid the taint on the Darcy name.
“He was so angry, Father, and hurt. Eventually, people will notice my absence regardless of what he does. Servants will talk and rumours will spread. It is only a matter of time. Not to forget Colonel Fitzwilliam, who knows it all and is not to be trusted.”
“Let me make enquiries. I shall see what I can do. You look exhausted. You should sleep.”
Elizabeth nodded, too discouraged to speak. She had put her sisters in a precarious position by coming here, but what choice did she have?
Her feet took her to her old chamber. The bed was not made, but she did not care. She found an old throw, untied her stays, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
#
The surprise was great when Elizabeth appeared in Longbourn’s breakfast parlour the next morning.
Loud exclamations were heard coming from Mrs Bennet about her illustrious daughter’s visit.
Her explanation for being left by her husband, who supposedly had continued on his way to town on business, was immediately accepted without question.
Mrs Bennet could see nothing suspicious in the story.
Elizabeth was content her father had managed to offer a plausible excuse explaining why there was neither a husband nor a carriage presently at Longbourn.
The first thing she noticed whilst buttering her roll was the improvement in Mary.
Her middle sister had blossomed during the two months Elizabeth had been away.
It made it easy to steer the conversation away from herself.
Mary basked in the attention and eagerly related her beau’s many excellent qualities.
Whatever concerns Elizabeth might have felt were assuaged by what her sister shared. Mr Batford was Mary’s perfect match in every way. It was with relief she acknowledged the pleasure her sister’s prosperity brought to herself; it was only her own affairs that left her emotionally numb.
Kitty was quiet during Mary’s speech but held a secret smile that threatened to erupt.
The reason became obvious when Mrs Bennet revealed that Mr Lucas, Charlotte’s brother and the heir to Lucas Lodge, was expected home in the near future.
He had enlisted in the navy, despite being the heir to an estate.
If the rumours were to be believed, he was returning with a hefty sum of prize money; only time would tell.
Elizabeth still saw the value of money but no longer believed it created the happiness her mother assumed.
All in all, breakfast went well. Mrs Bennet’s only concern about her daughter’s sudden appearance was to decide whom they should visit first. She eventually concluded that her sister, Mrs Phillips, should have the honour, but Elizabeth begged off, professing to be too fatigued from her travels.
Mrs Bennet made unintelligible delighted sounds and winked at her. She obviously had a different opinion about the reason for Elizabeth’s fatigue, asserting Jane to be the product of her own wedding night, when a simple calculation would indicate her arrival as five weeks early.
Elizabeth’s fatigue lingered throughout the day.
The visit to Mrs Phillips was postponed, and she was granted a day of rest, but it did not suffice to restore her to her former self.
In fact, she doubted she would ever feel like herself again.
For the present, she was detached from her inner being, regarding herself from outside her body.
Mrs Bingley was expected to return to Netherfield on Twelfth Night.
After a quiet family Christmas, Mrs Bennet kept Elizabeth busy, dragging her around on numerous visits while she waited for her sister to come home.
The smile she plastered on her countenance from early morning to late in the evening was wearing her down.
She was anticipating letting it drop when Jane returned and allowing herself to grieve.
#
Longbourn, January 5th
The Bingleys stopped at Longbourn on their way back to Netherfield. Somehow, Elizabeth had imagined the reunion with her most beloved sister to be in her sole company.
Jane and Mr Bingley brought gaiety to the house. Delighted after celebrating their first Christmas together, they radiated happiness and exquisite felicity. Jane pulled Elizabeth into a fierce embrace, exclaiming how delighted she was to see her.
Elizabeth could not bring herself to burden her sister with her sordid tale.
It would be cruel to lay the heavy weight of her misery on Jane’s delicate shoulders.
She might even sow discord between the bride and groom; Mr Bingley was Mr Darcy’s dear friend, after all, and the Bennet family needed one good marriage to secure their future.
Jane solicited her sister’s news, but Elizabeth immediately moved the conversation on to the Bingleys’ sojourn to London.
The plays they had seen and the shops they had visited were thoroughly discussed until the couple had to leave.
Elizabeth had even managed to add a few tidbits of her own that Georgiana had shared from her prolonged stay in London, creating the appearance that nothing was amiss.
She could not yet bear relating anything from Pemberley because the wound was still raw.
Elizabeth followed her father to his study as soon as the door closed behind her sister and brother. She sat in front of him and begged him to find a means for her to escape.
“Papa?” She had not called him that since she had become betrothed to Mr Darcy. “Please tell me you have found a place for me to live.”
“I have, child. But I thought you intended to stay the month complete.”
“I cannot. It would look strange for me to remain apart from my new husband for so long. I cannot invent more lies, nor can I feign a gaiety I do not feel.”
“I understand your plight,” Mr Bennet assured her.
“We shall leave for London early on the morrow. I shall take you to Gracechurch Street. Your uncle has found a cottage to rent within my means. I must warn you, though, it is small, and you will not be able to live the way you have been accustomed to.”
“I did not assume I would,” Elizabeth replied. Relief washed over her at the mere thought of leaving.
“Mr Gardiner has graciously offered to give you five hundred pounds in addition to my fifty pounds per annum, but you will have to make it last. I hope you will not touch the capital your uncle has offered you but can manage on the interest. After I am dead, it will be up to Mr Collins whether he will allow you to keep the allowance. You will be on your own unless your uncle has mercy on you and gives you something more, but I may surprise you all and outlive him. Bear in mind that the one thousand pounds from your mother will go to your husband when her time comes. You cannot count on those funds either.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Elizabeth rose and hurried to her chamber. Tears were spilling down her cheeks, but they were not brought on by grief; rather, they were tears of relief. Relief that she would no longer be required to maintain this fraudulent impression of happiness.
That night, Elizabeth slept soundly.
#
Gracechurch Street, London, January 6th
Elizabeth’s pretence crumbled the instant she laid eyes on her aunt Gardiner. No amount of effort could prevent the tears from falling or the sobs from escaping her throat.
Her cousins looked upon her with uncertain faces as she bent to greet them with fierce hugs and proclamations of joy at seeing them.
“You are distraught, Elizabeth. Come, let me escort you to your room to rest.”
Aunt Gardiner led her to the guest room she used to share with Jane. Elizabeth cried, unable to speak. After her aunt left, it took hours before Elizabeth calmed; when she finally did, she fell promptly asleep.
It was evening before Elizabeth could relate her sorrows to her aunt.
Mrs Gardiner listened but made few comments.
Elizabeth knew nothing could be done, so her aunt’s silence did not bother her.
When she had finished, she thanked her aunt for listening to her woes and promised to never mention it again.
She suggested they join the gentlemen for dinner rather than wait for her speechless relative to offer words of comfort they both knew would be hollow.
After dinner, the party removed to her uncle’s study, where her fate was described. Elizabeth was drained and had nothing to contribute other than to repeat her gratitude towards her aunt, uncle, and father, knowing she could never repay their benevolence.
On the morning of the 7th of January, she left Gracechurch Street and her relations behind.
The chance of her ever seeing any of them again was slim and far into the future.
Elizabeth Bennet Darcy was an outcast from society, with seventy pounds annually to live on.
She would have to learn how to cook. It was fortunate she had spent many mornings languishing in Longbourn’s kitchen.
She had accidentally learnt enough to save herself from starvation.