Chapter 11 #3
He seemed to search for words then suddenly said, “The roads are bad indeed. I hope Darcy and the colonel completed their journey in safety.”
Her smile felt forced. “I pray for that. I am sure they will send a note to inform Mr Bingley once they reach their destination. I also pray that you and your companions have speedy and uneventful travel back to Town, sir.”
“I thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I wish you all the best.” He bowed, and shortly after that, all the guests returned to Netherfield.
Elizabeth excused herself and retired to her chamber not long after their departure.
She excused herself from dinner and went to sleep earlier than she remembered doing in her adult life.
She needed—desired—time for herself. Time to be alone with her thoughts, with her memories, with her hopes. All tightly bonded to him.
∞∞∞
The Wickhams returned north two days after the ball. Mr Bennet paid their travelling expenses, sad to witness his youngest daughter joyfully leaving with her unworthy husband.
Mrs Bennet repaid her severity with many hugs and kisses to both Lydia and her husband, asking them to write often and visit when they could. The separation from the other sisters was brief and awkward with warm embraces for Lydia and polite goodbyes for Wickham.
The days flew between Netherfield and Longbourn with wedding arrangements, Jane making changes to her new apartment, Mrs Bennet stressing herself and everybody else about the wedding breakfast, and Mrs Gardiner struggling to keep everyone calm.
Miss Bingley invited her future relatives to dine at Netherfield only twice, but Mr Bingley often hunted with the gentlemen from Longbourn and spent time with them in the library.
Jane was at Netherfield almost daily, as her future husband always wanted her advice and opinion on something.
Elizabeth kept her company, fighting her own sadness to cheer her sister’s anxious felicity.
“My dear, you worry me,” Mrs Gardiner told her privately one evening. “I have never seen you so distressed. While I suspect what troubles you, please let me know how I may help. I cannot stand to see you this way.”
“Forgive me, dear aunt. I hope the others have not noticed my low spirits. I would dread spoiling Jane’s engagement with my silly, selfish distress.”
“Dearest, blaming yourself will only increase your troubles. It would help you more if you try to be sensible. Do you have a reason for such torment? Is there any arrangement that has been broken?”
“No…no arrangement…I mean…Mr Darcy confessed he planned to call on us the day after the ball. He said he wished to speak privately with me. He did not say as much but led me to guess the subject of the conversation. There was no doubt…”
“Truly? I could not be happier. Then why such turmoil? Why this shadow that has darkened your eyes and stolen your smile for so many days? You should know that Mr Darcy is not a man to break his promise.”
“He did not promise me anything, Aunt. Of his desires, I stopped doubting some time ago. But he would not avoid his duty either.”
“But, Lizzy—what do you fear?”
“I fear that Lady Catherine might convince him to marry his cousin Anne…since she is so ill. I know that she has been ill for many years. She was not even presented at court because of her poor state. He might feel sorry for her and—”
“I do not believe that could happen, Lizzy. Mr Darcy is not a weak man who would allow anyone to make decisions for him. I am sure he will take care of his cousin in a different manner.”
“But suppose his feelings of mercy are stronger than his affection for me? What should I do? I cannot see him again if he is married. I cannot bear the notion of waiting to…oh dear…that is such a horrible thought. I am such a horrible human being!”
Elizabeth wiped her tears furiously while Mrs Gardiner started to laugh.
“My dear, I never thought to see you in such a state of despair and sorrow because of love. It pleases me to know the depth of your feelings for the gentleman. He deserves no less.”
Laughter lit Elizabeth’s misty eyes. “I do love him, Aunt; if I could only tell you. Everything I feel is so strong, so powerful, yet so painful. I never imagined love could be like this. My heart laughs and cries at the same time. So much joy and so much pain…I have no control over my mind and my soul. I am weak, absurd, unreasonable…”
“You are just in love, dearest—nothing less and nothing more. Be happy and grateful. Few women are blessed with the experience of true love, and even fewer know their love is shared. Be grateful for your luck.”
“I am grateful, Aunt. I know I do not deserve such complete happiness, and I still hope and beg the Lord for it. This is why I am so terrified that I might lose it before I actually embrace it.”
“Fear not, Lizzy. If Mr Darcy is the man I know and your happiness is in his hands, he will bring it to you.”
“Mr Darcy is my happiness, dear aunt. I needed an entire year to realize it, and I pray for a lifetime to cherish it.”
“Keep praying, dearest. And trust the man you love so deeply. He is either worthy or unworthy of your affection, and you will soon have the proof.”
∞∞∞
Conversations with her aunt were rather frequent the next days; they did not dissipate Elizabeth’s distress but helped her bear it easier.
Mr Bingley received two letters from his friend, both explaining the dangerous state of Miss de Bourgh’s health.
He, however, was interested in nothing but his upcoming wedding, so he provided few and insignificant details.
Therefore, Elizabeth’s days were restless and continued into her sleepless nights.
Still, Elizabeth had little time to pity herself. Longbourn was busy and crowded with visitors and preparations that let them exhausted at the end of the day.
With worry and eager anticipation, the waiting finally came to an end. Only one night separated Jane from the beginning of her blissful new life—and Mrs Bennet from the end of all her worries.
Mr Bingley did not call at Longbourn at all that day. The family was alone, but the din grew louder than ever. The ladies spoke, asked, answered, and changed their minds constantly, trying on gowns and jewels without liking any.
Mr Gardiner was demanded to stay with them, offering his advice when asked while being ignored each time. Mr Bennet skilfully managed to retire to his library, protecting himself from the agitation.
By noon, winter had conquered the weather; it started to snow, and soon it grew into a blizzard—like the one overwhelming Elizabeth’s tormented soul.
Two weeks had passed since the ball, and still Darcy did not return. The wedding was the following day, and he was still away. Not even a third letter arrived.
If he wished, he could have found a way to return. He said he would be there for his best friend’s wedding. Had he broken his promises before?
The uncertainty added to her turmoil and crushed any remaining joy she felt for Jane’s felicity. Soon, Jane would be at Netherfield, her uncle and aunt would return to London, and she would still be alone and lonely.
In the drawing room, Mrs Bennet complained about the weather again.
As before the ball, she was certain a curse had fallen upon her to ruin the most important day of her life.
However, her torment was lessened; this time, she did not care about the guests being unable to attend.
All that mattered was seeing Jane wedded to Mr Bingley.
The bride and groom and the clergyman were all in the neighbourhood, so she would get them to the church even if she had to carry them.
An hour before dinner, it was already dark outside, and the blizzard grew stronger.
Mr Bennet joined them, carrying a glass of wine.
His appearance was cheered and his opinion immediately required upon travelling to the church in two or three carriages.
He had no answer but approached his second daughter and sat by her side.
“Lizzy dearest,” he said a few moments later, “be so kind as to bring me the paper I left on my desk in the library.”
“Of course, Papa,” she replied hurriedly, grateful for a chance to escape the noise even briefly. The silence would spare her struggling to conceal her distress in order to protect her sister’s joy.
She opened the library door, indifferent to her surroundings. The darkness was lit only by a solitary candle, burning weakly and lonely. Like her soul. She stepped toward the desk; then her steps ceased, and her knees weakened.
The thin light revealed a shadow against the wall. The wild racing of her heart and a scent that made her dizzy betrayed the truth before her eyes became accustomed to it.
She put her hands on her chest to steady her pounding heart.
“Mr Darcy…!”
“Miss Bennet…”