CHAPTER 21 August Caller
Elizabeth spent the next few days after she last saw Darcy attempting to regain her strength.
Since she could not walk outside, she took to walking within the parsonage.
She would start in the parlour, go through the small vestibule then down a hallway to Charlotte’s back sitting room, then up the stairs then down again.
She did this for at least half an hour each day and felt that, though she was still not as strong as before, she was at least getting closer to it.
She also tried not to think of Darcy too much, knowing that if she did, she would again go down a path of acute regret. Best not to think of it, she often told herself. I shall simply apologise when I next see him and hope he will forgive me.
The first day without rain finally came and she waited impatiently for the gentlemen to call. However, nobody came.
“Are you not worried, Jane?” she asked her sister that evening as they sat on Elizabeth’s bed together.
“You mean about Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes. We did after all rake them through the coals, when they were last here.”
Jane chuckled. “No, I am not worried. For Mr. Bingley has hinted to me several times that he was here to show his constancy.” Jane then turned to regard her younger sister. “And you, Lizzy? Do not tell me that you doubt Mr. Darcy’s affection.”
“Well, I actually do, Jane. I mean, he seemed quite hurt that I trusted Mr. Wickham over him. And he could not even be bothered to stay to talk about it.”
Jane patted her on the hand, recalling everything that Darcy had done during her sister’s illness. “But Darcy is loyal…and constant. You really should not doubt him. Tell me, Lizzy, do you care for him?”
Elizabeth was quiet for a time, thinking of her tumultuous relationship with Darcy. Eventually, still not wanting to fully admit her love, she answered, “I believe…I could, if I were to know him better.”
Jane smiled. “That is good Lizzy. For I always thought you disliked him.”
“No, not anymore. Not after having gone through that illness then realising it was Mr. Darcy who sent for the doctor. I believe he is a good man.”
“And Wickham?”
Elizabeth sighed and considered all the conversations she’d ever had with Wickham. “Perhaps I was wrong to trust him so implicitly. And on so short an acquaintance. When I think about it, he has not actually done any good for anybody.”
“True,” said Jane.
“It was just his manners that were better.” Elizabeth felt that rising sense of panic again, that feeling of having made a grave error in judgement. “Oh, Jane! Have I been a fool? Have I preferred one man over another simply because he fed my vanity?”
“You had nothing else to go by, as you said,” responded Jane.
Elizabeth recalled the meeting between Wickham and Darcy all those months ago on the streets of Meryton.
Darcy was livid, she could see that. But somehow he had restrained his anger and just ridden away.
Wickham, on the other hand, seemed almost…
afraid. Why? It seemed to Elizabeth - in retrospect - that it was Wickham who had harmed Darcy in some way.
She thought of this again and, in light of how Darcy had behaved throughout their acquaintance, it made sense.
He had implied at the Netherfield Ball that Wickham made friends easily but that he wasn’t able to keep them. Darcy, on the other hand, had the loyalty of one such as Bingley. And Colonel Fitzwilliam. And indeed all his relatives.
One man has all the goodness and the other only the appearance of it, she thought regretfully.
“What are you thinking, Lizzy?” asked Jane, breaking into her thoughts.
“I am fairly certain,” she said deliberately, “that I have been a fool.”
Jane chuckled. “Now, Lizzy, do not be hard on yourself. If you believe that you were wrong about Wickham, then you simply must talk to Darcy about it. I am certain that he will appreciate your new found confidence in him.”
Elizabeth smiled weakly. “Yes, you have a point, Jane. I only hope I have the opportunity to do so.”
The next morning, Elizabeth and Jane were in the parlour when two callers were announced.
Their mother was with Charlotte, making calls on some neighbours, when Mr. Bingley walked in with a tall, raven-haired woman - one of the most beautiful Elizabeth had ever seen.
She glanced at Jane who was also staring at the pair and wondered, just for a moment, if Jane felt any little bit of jealousy seeing her suitor with such a beauty.
But then Bingley smiled, and walked buoyantly into the room and all such thoughts fled.
“Lady Diana Fitzwilliam,” he said, “may I present Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Lady Diana is the younger sister of Colonel Fitzwilliam. She and her parents arrived from London yesterday.”
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Lady Diana with a warm smile.
The two sat down and tea was served. However, as was usually the case, Mr. Bingley and Jane began to speak only to one another and so Elizabeth was left to talk mostly with Lady Diana.
They talked about the Kentish countryside and how Lady Diana had been visiting Rosings since she was young. But, all the while, Elizabeth wondered where Darcy was.
Before long, Bingley asked Jane to walk in the garden with him and invited the two other ladies to join them. Elizabeth, who could have used an outside walk, nevertheless decided to forgo it so that her sister might be afforded some time alone with her suitor.
“Thank you, no, Mr. Bingley, I do not feel quite up to it today. But perhaps Lady Diana and I might sit together outside while the two of you go for a walk?”
Bingley smiled gratefully and soon the two were off.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, found herself sitting on the same bench she had sat on with Mr. Darcy over two weeks ago.
She regarded her companion and thought how similar she appeared to her handsome cousin - both of them tall, with dark hair and eyes, and a striking countenance.
She swallowed and realised suddenly how well they would look together, and how much more worthy Lady Diana was to be his wife… than herself.
This notion struck her so forcibly that it took her a while to recover from it. Thus, she hardly listened to what Lady Diana was saying.
“Miss Bennet?”
“Yes, Lady Diana?”
“I was asking how you found him.”
Elizabeth blinked. “I apologise, Lady Diana, but…would you be so kind as to repeat your question?”
The lady smiled. “Of course. I was just saying how Bingley mentioned that you all knew each other in Hertfordshire.”
“Yes, we did. That is how I met Mr. Bingley and your cousin, Mr. Darcy.”
“I am just curious, Miss Bennet, what was your impression of my cousin?”
“Oh! He, ahh…he was very finely dressed…at all times.”
Lady Diana chuckled. “That is not what I meant. But I expect you knew that. Still, I would like to know what you thought of his…manners. And please do call me ‘Diana’ as the title of ‘Lady’ seems better suited to more august personages such as my aunt and mother.”
“Thank you, Diana, and you must make free to call me ‘Elizabeth’.”
Diana looked at the young woman before her and became more and more convinced that this was the lady to whom Darcy had formed an attachment.
She was of middle height, but her figure was light and pleasing; and she had large brown eyes with long lashes that she thought would appeal to her secretly romantic cousin.
“So what did you think of him - my cousin, I mean?”
Elizabeth hesitated, which itself was telling.
“He is a reserved man, I think.”
Diana wondered if Darcy was as standoffish in Hertfordshire as he usually was in society.
Over the years he had developed a Darcy facade which he used to keep people at a distance and had probably used it when he first met Elizabeth.
He was probably not yet certain of his regard then and therefore did not show the warmer side of himself. Her cousin was ever a cautious fellow.
“I see what you are getting at, Elizabeth,” she said finally.
“But I did not mean anything…disparaging by it.”
“No, of course not, but…I believe he is reserved for a reason. You see, ladies and their aunts and mothers have always pursued him for his money, his connections and, of course, Pemberley. And his manners are a way, I think, of protecting himself. It was probably whispered about, was it not, that Pemberley makes ten thousand pounds a year?”
“Yes, it was. Quite frequently.”
“There, you see? Darcy was just being his usual self. Tell me, did you think that his manners were not quite what they should be?”
Elizabeth winced. “I suppose…at first.”
“I am like that as well,” said Diana. “Especially when I first meet a gentleman.” She chuckled and added, “I have sometimes been referred to as ‘The Ice Princess’. My dowry, you see, is fifty thousand pounds and I can never be certain if I am being sought out for myself, or for my money.”
“You and Mr. Darcy seem to have a great deal in common,” said Elizabeth.
“I suppose we do.”
It was then that Charlotte and Mrs. Bennet returned to the parsonage and were introduced to Diana. They all therefore returned to the parlour.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, my aunt would like to have your party over for dinner in two nights. I am certain she shall send a note around this very day.”
“My husband actually told me of it,” said Charlotte, “and he has accepted for all of us.”
“Excellent,” said Diana. “But now I must return to Rosings. My aunt, doubtless, will have numerous questions for me regarding my activities this Season. But I bid you good day and look forward to seeing you in two nights.”
Elizabeth, when she pondered Diana after she left, was still confused as to what to think. Could it be that Darcy had developed a fondness for his beautiful cousin? But why would he do so when he had proposed to her only a few weeks earlier?
But I told him I did not even like him, she thought to herself. Then I took Wickham’s side over him, or at least, doubted his honour.
Honour meant a great deal to men such as Darcy, Elizabeth realised.
Which is why he could not - or would not - defend himself.
And now Elizabeth had lost his respect for having been so gullible.
Maybe he was better off with Diana - Diana who was as tall and striking as himself and who, moreover, had a dowry of fifty thousand pounds.
“Lizzy? Are you alright?” she heard her mother ask, as if from a great distance. “You seem out of sorts.
Elizabeth looked at her mother. And then she nodded.