Chapter 9 #4
Some of her dreams pained her, some made her wake up crying, and some made her ashamed of her lack of fortitude and her wantonness.
Mr Darcy, of course, was the focus: his deep, tender voice, the look in his eyes—either tender and light or darkened by a feeling Elizabeth could not name but only guess—his fingers entwined with hers, his soft lips touching her hand or her forehead.
To her utter distress, there were times when she dreamed more than that.
There were nights when, in her restless sleep, she had imagined his kiss, his caress, his whispers covering her with passion and tenderness and leaving her breathless and crying for more; and each of those times in her dreams, she desired with all her heart to answer him with the same passion, yet each time she could not.
Instead, she felt unable to move, to speak, or to reveal to him her true feelings and desires; and each time he eventually vanished into the darkness, and she awoke with a wildly racing heart and a body soaked in clammy perspiration.
No, she did not need sleep; it was her worst enemy, leaving her mind and soul more exhausted than before she retired.
After a week of searching and acquiring no other news than that the fugitives had yet to been found, a letter came from Mr Gardiner that Mr Bennet would return home.
Elizabeth knew any hope was lost, and later that night in their room, she and Jane both cried for Lydia—and for other causes neither of them dared share with the other.
However, to their utter surprise a few days later, another letter from Mr Gardiner arrived, stating that Lydia and Wickham had been found; a week later, they were married. A glimmer of hope rose in Jane’s spirit; as for Mrs Bennet, she was in raptures.
Not possessing Jane’s genuine heart, Elizabeth was not so easily persuaded by the unexpectedly happy conclusion.
She wondered continually what had happened; by what method and with what expense did Mr Gardiner convince Wickham to marry Lydia?
She dared to talk only with her father about that delicate matter and was shocked when Mr Bennet confessed he suspected a sum of 10,000 pounds.
Surely, that was more than her uncle could afford and, undoubtedly, more than Mr Bennet would ever be able to repay.
If only Lydia had a chance at happiness or at least of having a comfortable life! Yet, the hope was small; Elizabeth was convinced of that a few days later.
Noisy and thoughtless as ever, the newly married Wickhams arrived at Longbourn before departing for the North where Mr Wickham was expected very soon to take a new commission.
Mrs Bennet and perchance Kitty were the only ones pleased with their visit. Mr Bennet’s reception was cold; Elizabeth and Jane, though pleased to see their sister well and unharmed, could not hide their disapproval of Lydia’s untamed, unabashed, and fearless behaviour.
Wickham was no less distressing than his bride; his manners were as pleasing as before, and his smile was charming as he claimed their relationship. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet was appalled.
During dinner, Wickham, who happened to sit near Elizabeth, began inquiring after his acquaintance in the neighbourhood with good-humoured ease, which she felt unable to equal in reply.
After dinner while they were all gathered in the drawing room, her new brother-in-law approached Elizabeth, who tried to retire to a corner as far from the others as possible.
“I am afraid I interrupt your solitude, my dear sister,” said he.
“You certainly do,” she replied, forcing a smile to conceal her displeasure, “but it does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome.”
“I should be sorry indeed if it were. We were always good friends, and now we are better.”
“True; now we are family. Things have changed unexpectedly and very quickly indeed.”
“Things have changed,” he repeated, looking at her with interest. “I found from our uncle and aunt that you have actually seen Pemberley.”
“Yes, I have had that pleasure.”
“I confess I was surprised to hear that you and Mr and Mrs Gardiner grew quite close to Darcy. I know how much you have always disliked him.”
“Mr Wickham, if I remember correctly, I mentioned to you when we last met that my opinion of Mr Darcy had changed completely after I had come to know him better, and being more in his company in the last weeks only helped me to understand why so many people admire and appreciate his character. As for Mr Gardiner, I cannot speak for him, but I dare say he seemed to value his acquaintance with Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam a great deal.”
Elizabeth hoped she had silenced him, but he soon afterwards continued.
“Yes, I remember our conversation just before we left Meryton. However, it appeared that Darcy had improved even more on closer acquaintance, had he not?”
Elizabeth’s patience reached the edge of her tolerance.
“Sir, may I dare ask how Mr Darcy’s character came into your conversation with my uncle?
I should think you had more urgent business to discuss,” Her raised eyebrow clearly expressed her opinion about that “urgent business.” But he remained as calm as before.
“Oh, but I had the opportunity actually to witness the relationship between Darcy and Mr Gardiner. Did you not know that we met at your uncle’s home a few times?”
Elizabeth’s heart nearly stopped; of what was the man talking?
“Mr Darcy? Mr Darcy was in Town—in my uncle’s home?” She realised her surprise and interest betrayed her, but she could not contain herself, and indeed her brother-in-law did not miss her reaction.
“Yes, he was, and he seemed quite familiar with the surroundings, so I assumed it was not his first visit there. And he was not alone but in the company of Lady Cassandra. You did meet Lady Cassandra, did you not?”
Elizabeth’s head was spinning with countless questions, fears and hopes, and several moments passed before she could breathe properly again.
The notion that he had been in London and met Wickham was impossible to believe and even more so to understand.
What was he doing there—and with Lady Cassandra?
It could not be a simple coincidence, yet it was also unbelievable that either Mr Darcy or her ladyship would have willingly met Lydia or Wickham.
But if it were true, that meant he knew what happened to Lydia; he knew and, even more so, agreed to meet with Wickham—more than once.
No, that cannot be…I surely misunderstood.
How was it possible? Had Lady Cassandra betrayed her confidence?
“Dear sister, I hope I have not upset you with this news,” he said, a pleased grin on his face.
“No indeed, sir, why should I be upset? Surely it is my uncle’s privilege to receive any guests he pleases into his own home.
” She struggled to maintain her calm, yet she desperately searched for a reason to retire to her room.
She needed to think, and she needed to write her aunt immediately!
Mrs Gardiner was the only one who could clarify things for her.
“Lady Cassandra did not seem as friendly as Darcy was to your relatives, to tell the truth. In fact, I dare say she highly disapproved of Darcy’s closeness to the Gardiners.
And even more so—as we are now brother and sister—I must warn you she confessed to me she cared not at all about Lydia or any of your family. ”
“Sir, I am truly surprised that Lady Cassandra would confess such a thing to you in my uncle’s house in the presence of my relatives.”
He appeared clearly disconcerted and averted his eyes instantly; his countenance changed. “It was not in Mr Gardiner’s house…we met one day, and it was then that we spoke.”
“I see…You met Lady Cassandra privately? That is also astonishing as I know from an impeccable source that Lady Cassandra does not care much for you either, sir.” Before he found words to reply, she continued.
“It appears that your time in London was rather eventful. In a short time, you met my uncle and aunt, Mr Darcy and also Lady Cassandra more than once while you managed to arrange your marriage to my sister and obtain a new commission. You have all my admiration for such efficiency, sir—as I said, quite astonishing!”
As she spoke, her words seemed to clarify the answers to some of her tormenting questions.
Everything sounded so logical and clear that she was afraid to dare believe it.
Everything was connected; she could now see that clearly.
But how tightly things were connected and to whom she had no courage even to presume.
She needed certainties not wild guesses, and she knew to whom to apply.
“If you will be so kind as to excuse me now, sir, I have to join my sisters and spend a little time with them. Lydia will leave tomorrow, and I have hardly spoken to her at all.”
The rest of the evening, Elizabeth could do nothing but consider the extraordinary information she had discovered.
That night, she wrote a long letter to her aunt, asking for all the details of Mr Darcy’s presence and his meetings with Mr Wickham.
The letter was sent the next morning, and Elizabeth began to count the hours until Mrs Gardiner’s reply might arrive.
∞∞∞
A week after the Wickhams left, Mrs Philips barged into the house, her impatient voice resounding in every corner. Netherfield was re-opened, and Mr Bingley was expected back, together with a large party of friends.
From that time, Jane began to blossom. She would not admit that her changed state had anything to do with the long-expected return of a certain neighbour, but her beauty and the light in her eyes spoke more than her words.
Jane was happy and hopeful and so was Elizabeth —not for herself but for her sister.
If Mr Bingley had decided to return, then Jane must be the reason for his decision. At least she would be happy.
Mr Bingley’s party finally arrived, and the news reached Longbourn just before dinner; Mrs Bennet’s agitation was unbearable, and dinner turned into a noisy argument.
Mr Bennet strongly resisted his wife’s demand that he visit Mr Bingley first thing the next morning.
His refusal made Mrs Bennet more impatient, and her nerves overwhelmed her appetite while she insisted—with no success—that Jane and Elizabeth support her demand.
As she did so many times before during those weeks, Elizabeth resisted sleep that night.
She wondered continually about the identity of the other members of the Netherfield party, and she dared not allow hope to envelop her heart.
Even if he had come with the others, surely his intentions toward her had utterly changed.
No matter how strong his feelings for her at Pemberley, they could never overcome a sentiment as natural as abhorrence for a relationship with Wickham!
Every kind of pride must revolt at the connection.
No, there was no hope that her mind could admit.
The next morning, Elizabeth woke with the sun after several hours of restless sleep. She needed fresh air to breathe and solitude for her memories.
As she left the house, her steps took her along old and well-known paths until her home was far behind and the beautiful prospect of Netherfield appeared before her.
She stared at the big house until her eyes hurt, though she knew it was not possible actually to see anyone.
Upset with her own foolishness, she turned and walked back as quickly as she could.
She closed her eyes as the wind caressed her face and took off her bonnet, allowing the breeze to play in her hair.
Her soul was still heavy, and her heart still a prisoner of her grief—but at least she could breathe.
And she could dream in the daylight, a dream so real that she could feel his presence behind her; she was still convinced she was dreaming when she heard his voice softly calling her name.
“Miss Bennet…I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you.”