Chapter 14 #3
The news of Mr Darcy’s departure for London affected Mrs Bennet very little as she was still not on friendly terms with “that aloof, silent gentleman.” In fact, she wondered many times how he could be brother to “that sweet girl” and a friend of the “spectacular Lady Cassandra.”
Dinner was not a pleasant affair for Elizabeth despite the fact that she was seated next to Darcy.
She was furious with herself for suggesting he leave for London and, though she knew she was acting unreasonably, could not combat the chill that gripped her heart.
She felt alone, lost and—for some unknown reason—frightened.
She retired to a corner after dinner while the gentlemen were in the library and her mother and the other ladies were chatting joyfully.
Mr Bingley returned, and Elizabeth looked eagerly for Darcy, yet he did not appear.
Instead, Hill came to fetch her to the library where it was announced that her father was waiting for her.
She headed for the library, fearing that something had happened, but instead of her father, she found Darcy alone.
He hurried to take her hands and raised them to his lips. “I have done the most shocking thing! I have asked your father to allow us a few moments alone!” he said with a mischievous smile.
“You did? And he accepted?”
“As you see…but only a few minutes,” he added, embracing her tightly. “My love, why are you so sad? Something has happened to you since we talked earlier today.”
“No, no, nothing happened; please believe me. I cannot explain what came over me. I have no real reason…it is just…” She met his worried gaze and felt his fingers caressing hers—a gentle and mostly unsuccessful attempt to comfort her.
Suddenly, she realised how much her silly reactions distressed him and that it would not do to let him leave in such a disturbed state of mind.
She smiled at him and encircled his waist, leaning her head against his chest.
“William, there is nothing wrong, trust me. I am only sad that I will not see you for so many days, but after all, a week is not such a long time. Please take care of your business and return when you finish it, and then I will not allow you to leave for a very long time.”
“If you want me to stay, I will. There is nothing so urgent that cannot wait.”
“No, no, there is no need for that! Besides,” she said, blushing at the impropriety of her words, “the more I become accustomed to your…closeness, the more I dread being away from you. So you had better go now before I cause the ruin of Pemberley.”
He almost carried her to the sofa and sat her down without freeing her from his embrace.
His fingers moved along every inch of her face, and she closed her eyes to imprint his touch on her mind for the time he would be gone.
Tenderly, his lips followed his fingers, placing countless light kisses along her beloved face; there was no passion, no eagerness in his kiss—only infinite love and care.
After some time, she lost all control and tearfully trapped his head in her hands. Her mouth captured his and she kissed him wildly until they both remained breathless. There also was no passion in her kiss—only infinite love and despair.
∞∞∞
Charles Bingley was ready for bed after a difficult day. So he would be married the same day as his friend! What joy! And the ball—where on earth did all those names come from? Who were those people?
“Charles, thank God you finally returned! I need to speak to you immediately!” The appearance of his sister, Caroline, shocked him, and he desperately pulled the sheet around him.
“Caroline, for heaven’s sake, I am in my night clothes! What on earth are you doing here?”
“I need to speak to you immediately—right now—as there is a situation that requires your attention tomorrow morning! You must invite Lord Markham to Netherfield for the ball. I am sure he intends to propose to me very soon! And yes, I know it is not proper for you to invite him as you are not acquainted, but he said he would not mind! Can you imagine that? He said he would love a country ball, especially as his family is visiting a relative only twenty miles from here—I forget the name of the estate. So you will write him today and invite him. In fact, no—your writing is horrible—I will write him in your name, and you will only sign it. What do you say to that?”
He followed her tirade with a shocked expression, barely able to comprehend.
He nodded stupidly and wondered briefly who Lord Markham was.
Caroline’s suitor? A viscount? Can this be true or just another of Caroline’s fantasies?
He soon came to understand that he would have no peace if he did not invite the man, and frankly, what would one more matter among so many.
“Of course, Caroline, this is your home, too. You may invite whomever you choose, my dear. Just write your letters and let me sign them.”
For the first time in ten years, Caroline kissed her brother’s cheeks before she ran out of his room.
∞∞∞
After Darcy left for London, Elizabeth was certain she would not be able to put aside her fears until she saw him again. Fortunately, his daily letter—sent by express to Mr Bennet—worked like magic and soothed her, and she even managed to sleep during the night
She spent most of the time with Jane, Lady Cassandra and Georgiana.
Mr Bingley’s sisters avoided their company as much as possible and seemed to give little consideration to the engagement or the ball.
Only Miss Bingley mentioned a few times “a special guest who certainly would be a great surprise to Lady Cassandra,” but Elizabeth paid little attention to her.
About a week before the ball, Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived at Netherfield, and his presence animated everyone.
To their previous friendship, Elizabeth could add the joy of knowing they would soon be family, and she was even more pleased to find that Darcy had already informed him of their engagement.
Georgiana was delighted to have a temporary replacement for her brother, and Bingley kept saying, “Man, I am so happy to have you here!”
At Longbourn, the colonel became a quick favourite of Mrs Bennet—“such a charming, handsome gentleman!”—and an acceptable replacement for Darcy to Mr Bennet.
The third day after his arrival, Lady Cassandra woke early to ride.
She was angry with herself for her foolish thoughts.
The colonel was everything he had been in the past: kind, charming, pleasant, and attentive to everybody.
With her, his manners were impeccable; he was neither indifferent nor insistent.
His behaviour was friendly and gentlemanlike—and she hated that!
There was no sign of the passion he declared previously—no special attention to her, nothing—but, she did not hate him for that.
She hated herself for wanting something else!
She needed to ride, to free her mind—and her heart—of everything.
She entered the stables lost in thought and, inattentive, almost fell into the colonel’s arms.
“Lady Cassandra! Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes…Please forgive my lack of attention, Colonel.”
“There is nothing to forgive. Are you…Do you intend to ride? Would you…” He paused a moment, looking at her in earnest. “Would you allow me the pleasure of your company?”
She hesitated a few moments. “Yes, I would be delighted.” And in truth, she was delighted.
For more than an hour, they rode through the fields and groves and along hidden paths at a slow pace or a gallop, side by side.
They spoke little—mostly about the scenery—and from time to time they cast brief glances at each other.
As time passed, she grew easier in his company, and shortly, happy memories of their past together became more powerful than any present distress.
The following days, the couple met and rode together again.
Starting the next morning, they not only rode in silence but also raced for some time and then slowed their pace, spending the time in long conversations recalling earlier times.
To her surprise, the colonel remembered things she never knew: about herself as a small child, her parents, and her disobedient behaviour.
He seemed as pleased to talk as she was to listen, and neither noticed the time pass; they were both late for breakfast and drew the Bingley sisters’ reproachful looks. Yet, neither of them noticed.
∞∞∞
Lady Cassandra returned from a long walk together with the colonel, Georgiana and Elizabeth.
They were all tired, hungry and in excellent spirits.
Elizabeth was happy to have the opportunity of speaking of Darcy and learning about his childhood—and what stories she had heard!
Lady Cassandra and the colonel seemed to take the opportunity of Darcy’s absence to make fun of him—his seriousness, his propriety, and his first love, the sixteen-year-old daughter of an earl; he was five and wanted to marry her.
Georgiana hurried to defend her brother against those stories, but she could do little as all of them had happened before she was born.
Elizabeth did not give much credit to the colonel’s stories, but the mere mention of Darcy’s name gave her joy—so she accepted them with serenity.
On reaching the main entrance of Netherfield, they noticed a large carriage and, a few steps further, a small gathering of people.
The identity of the newcomer remained uncertain until they were closer and could not avoid him.
Caroline Bingley, elaborately dressed and full of loudly expressed enthusiasm, approached them with superior satisfaction as she performed the introductions.
“Lady Cassandra, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Georgiana—I think you are acquainted with Lord Markham! He is our special guest and will remain at Netherfield until after the ball.”