CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Darcy lay in his bed and stared at the canopy as if it could provide him relief.
It was late in the night and even the crickets had gone to rest. Insomnia had plagued him since that fateful day at the Temple of Bastet.
The upheaval occasioned by his proposal to Miss Elizabeth and her subsequent rejection had delayed his communicating everything to Abby, as he should have done as quickly as possible.
He ought to have called upon her before he had left Rosings, but he had been too upset by the course of events to want even her company.
His pride and his heart wounded, he had fixed his attentions to repairing the much damaged estimation in which Miss Elizabeth held him.
He simply could not suffer her to malign him with distorted truths and fiction.
His anger, however, dissipated in the ensuing days, replaced with grave concern for Miss Elizabeth should the worst come to pass.
Without doubt, he would renew the offer of his hand and prayed that, under new circumstances, she would accept him, preserving her honour and saving him from an eternity of remorse.
Not knowing how she had received his letter, he did not rule out the possibility that she would refuse him still.
Her abhorrence of a union between them had been plain.
In his letter to Abby, he had confessed his wrong and his failure to have taken all the necessary precautions to ensure the well-being of the student.
In his mind, there was not to haven been a third lesson; thus, the use of a sheath would not have been required.
The force of his desire for her took him by surprise, certainly, but in the past, his mind had always prevailed over any corporal urges.
Rising, Darcy went to the basin upon his sideboard and splashed the water over his face.
He could not think back on what happened in the Temple without arousal.
No amount of shame seemed able to dampen his lust. Memories of being inside her, enveloped by her heated wetness, cradled by the tight yet supple walls of her cunnie…
His hand went to his cock. It did not take long for him to spend, but the relief could not compare to the grandeur of being with her, plunging into her, making her moan in delight, feeling her writhe against him, seeing the burst of pleasure in her face as she reached her climax.
Morning brought little solace until the post came with a letter from Abby.
He had stepped out to meet a gentleman on business at the local coffeehouse but stopped upon the threshold to tear open the letter.
He scanned the letter. Relief washed over him as he read that she had stayed in London long enough to confirm Miss Elizabeth had received her flux and could not be pregnant.
She added that his letter to Miss Elizabeth before his departure from Rosings had been well received, and that the young lady believed truth to incline toward him over Wickham.
His heart swelled that his confidence had not been in vain.
It had been no easy matter to revisit that most painful past, though it pleased him somehow to have shared it with her.
“But, my dear Fitzwilliam,” Abby continued, “I wish I could conclude that her opinion of you, while vastly improved, is sufficient for her to entertain any renewal of your previous offer.
You have chosen to fall in love with a most independent young woman.
As with you, her standards are high, and, as she is young still, she will not relinquish her ideals for anything less.
And yet, I will not scruple to say that I think she would suit you quite well.
“On the other matter in your letter to me, I am not ready to entertain your resignation.
You must not reproach yourself too much and, instead, appreciate the power of passion.
No man is infallible. No man is impervious from fault.
You do humankind an injustice to hold it before a mirror of perfection.
Your integrity is not lessened by a single misstep.
We may all take blame in the matter—you, myself, Nicholas—but we ought not allow the past to stifle us from what good will yet come our way in the future.
“If I were years younger and desirous of a husband, I do not think my friendship with Miss Elizabeth would stay me from competing for your affections. She is a fortunate young lady.
Yours, in friendship and love,
ABBY”
*****
It was the second week in May in which Lizzy, Jane and Maria set out together from Gracechurch Street for Hertfordshire; and, as they drew near the appointed inn where Mr. Bennet's carriage was to meet them, they quickly perceived, in token of the coachman's punctuality, both Kitty and Lydia looking out of a dining-room upstairs.
These two girls had been above an hour in the place, happily employed in visiting an opposite milliner, watching the sentinel on guard, and dressing a salad and cucumber.
After welcoming their sisters, they triumphantly displayed a table set out with such cold meat as an inn larder usually affords, exclaiming, "Is not this nice? Is not this an agreeable surprise?"
"And we mean to treat you all," added Lydia, "but you must lend us the money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there.
" Then, showing her purchases, she added, "Look here, I have bought this bonnet.
I do not think it is very pretty, but I thought I might as well buy it as not.
I shall pull it to pieces as soon as I get home, and see if I can make it up any better. "
And when her sisters abused it as ugly, she added, with perfect unconcern, "Oh!
but there were two or three much uglier in the shop; and when I have bought some prettier-coloured satin to trim it with fresh, I think it will be very tolerable.
Besides, it will not much signify what one wears this summer, after the regiment has left Meryton, and they are going in a fortnight. "
"Are they indeed!" cried Lizzy with the greatest satisfaction.
"They are going to be encamped near Brighton, and I do so want papa to take us all there for the summer! It would be such a delicious scheme, and I dare say would hardly cost anything at all. Mamma would like to go too of all things! Only think what a miserable summer else we shall have!"
"Yes," thought Lizzy, "that would be a delightful scheme indeed, and completely do for us at once. Good Heaven! Brighton, and a whole campful of soldiers, to us, who have been overset already by one poor regiment of militia, and the monthly balls of Meryton!"
"Now I have got some news for you," said Lydia, as they sat down at table. "What do you think? It is excellent news—capital news—and about a certain person we all like!"
Jane and Lizzy looked at each other, and the waiter was told he need not stay. Lydia laughed, and said,
"Aye, that is just like your formality and discretion.
You thought the waiter must not hear, as if he cared!
I dare say he often hears worse things said than I am going to say.
But he is an ugly fellow! I am glad he is gone.
I never saw such a long chin in my life.
Well, but now for my news: it is about dear Wickham.
Too good for the waiter, is it not? There is no danger of Wickham's marrying Mary King.
There's for you! She is gone down to her uncle at Liverpool: gone to stay. Wickham is safe."
"And Mary King is safe!" added Lizzy. "Safe from a connection imprudent as to fortune."
"She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him."
"But I hope there is no strong attachment on either side," said Jane.
"I am sure there is not on his. I will answer for it: he never cared three straws about her—who could about such a nasty little freckled thing?"
As soon as they had all eaten, and the elder ones had paid, the carriage was ordered. After some contrivance, the whole party, with all their boxes, work-bags, and parcels, and the unwelcome addition of Kitty's and Lydia's purchases, were seated in it.
"How nicely we are all crammed in," cried Lydia.
"I am glad I bought my bonnet, if it is only for the fun of having another bandbox!
Well, now let us be quite comfortable and snug, and talk and laugh all the way home.
And in the first place, let us hear what has happened to you all since you went away.
Have you seen any pleasant men? Have you had any flirting?
I was in great hopes that one of you would have got a husband before you came back.
Jane will be quite an old maid soon, I declare.
She is almost three-and-twenty! Lord, how ashamed I should be of not being married before three-and-twenty!
My aunt Phillips wants you so to get husbands, you can't think.
She says Lizzy had better have taken Mr. Collins, but I do not think there would have been any fun in it.
Lord! how I should like to be married before any of you, and then I would chaperon you about to all the balls.
Dear me! We had such a good piece of fun the other day at Colonel Forster's.
Kitty and me were to spend the day there, and Mrs. Forster promised to have a little dance in the evening.
By the bye, Mrs. Forster and me are such friends!
And so she asked the two Harringtons to come, but Harriet was ill, and so Pen was forced to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did?
We dressed up Chamberlayne in woman's clothes on purpose to pass for a lady—only think what fun!
Not a soul knew of it, but Colonel and Mrs. Forster, and Kitty and me, except my aunt, for we were forced to borrow one of her gowns, and you cannot imagine how well he looked!
When Denny, and Wickham, and Pratt, and two or three more of the men came in, they did not know him in the least. Lord!
How I laughed! And so did Mrs. Forster. I thought I should have died.
And that made the men suspect something, and then they soon found out what was the matter. "
With such kinds of histories of their parties and good jokes, did Lydia, assisted by Kitty's hints and additions, endeavour to amuse her companions all the way to Longbourn. Lizzy listened as little as she could, but there was no escaping the frequent mention of Wickham's name.
Their reception at home was most kind. Mrs. Bennet rejoiced to see Jane in undiminished beauty, and more than once during dinner did Mr. Bennet say voluntarily to Lizzy:
"I am glad you are come back, Lizzy."
Their party in the dining-room was large, for almost all the Lucases came to meet Maria and hear the news.
Various were the subjects that occupied them: Lady Lucas was inquiring of Maria, after the welfare and poultry of her eldest daughter; Mrs. Bennet was doubly engaged, on one hand collecting an account of the present fashions from Jane, who sat some way below her, and, on the other, retailing them all to the younger Lucases; and Lydia, in a voice rather louder than any other person's, was enumerating the various pleasures of the morning to anybody who would hear her.
"Oh! Mary," said she, "I wish you had gone with us, for we had such fun!
As we went along, Kitty and I drew up the blinds, and pretended there was nobody in the coach, and I should have gone so all the way, if Kitty had not been sick; and when we got to the George, I do think we behaved very handsomely, for we treated the other three with the nicest cold luncheon in the world, and if you would have gone, we would have treated you, too.
And then when we came away it was such fun!
I thought we never should have got into the coach.
I was ready to die of laughter. And then we were so merry all the way home!
We talked and laughed so loud, that anybody might have heard us ten miles off! "
To this Mary very gravely replied, "Far be it from me, my dear sister, to depreciate such pleasures! They would doubtless be congenial with the generality of female minds. But I confess they would have no charms for me—I should infinitely prefer a book."
But of this answer Lydia heard not a word. She seldom listened to anybody for more than half a minute and never attended to Mary at all.
In the afternoon Lydia was urgent with the rest of the girls to walk to Meryton and to see how everybody went on, but Lizzy steadily opposed the scheme.
It should not be said that the Miss Bennets could not be at home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers.
There was another reason too for her opposition.
She dreaded seeing Wickham again and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible.
The comfort to her of the regiment's approaching removal was indeed beyond expression.
In a fortnight they were to go—and once gone, she hoped there could be nothing more to plague her on his account.
She had not been many hours at home before she found that the Brighton scheme, of which Lydia had given them a hint at the inn, was under frequent discussion between her parents.
Lizzy saw directly that her father had not the smallest intention of yielding, but his answers were at the same time so vague and equivocal, that her mother, though often disheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last.