Confront No Evil （Mixed） #3
“Here are my terms. I require you to forgive yourself. Sometimes, people do things that are unforgivable, but they must be forgiven anyway. I have long pardoned you, but it will distress me greatly to think that was for naught because you continue to carry this burden. For my sake… for your cousin’s sake…
for your aunt’s sake… for Charlotte’s sake…
for your family’s sake, sir… you must forgive yourself. I will accept nothing less.”
The colonel met her eye and stared at her for quite some time, while Jane waited patiently.
At last, he croaked out his answer.
“I will do my best, Mrs Bingley.”
“That is all I can ask, but demand it I do.”
“Yes, madam.”
He dropped his gaze, but Jane was not quite done.
“Colonel, you have agreed to all I have a right to demand, but I would also have a request.”
“I am at your orders.”
Jane laughed a little, though it was not her usual good-humoured laugh.
“Please be happy, Colonel, or it is all for naught. You must learn some of my wisest sister’s philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”
“Easier said than done.”
“So was surviving war, Colonel, and yet, here you stand before me, bent but not broken.”
A trace of the colonel’s true nature surfaced in a gravelly chuckle, and audible only to Jane and Charlotte, he murmured, “Yes, here I stand.”
Leaning closer, Jane added, “Promise me you will live. I know not what your duties now entail, but I shall expect you as a guest at Netherfield well before Michaelmas. If you fail to show, I shall send either my mother or Lady Catherine to collect you.”
With that, everyone in the room burst into laughter, and the tension drained away. Charlotte stared intensely at Jane and nodded in approval, while the colonel finally managed to look at her without appearing near collapse.
The laughter shifted from hysterical to good-humoured, before dying altogether.
Jane glanced at Charlotte, then significantly toward the parsonage, signalling a desire for the full story in privacy.
Lady Catherine called for the housekeeper to prepare rooms for Mr and Mrs Bingley, clearly stating she expected the couple’s attendance for a week at the very least.
All were settling down when Jane let out one last outburst.
“Oh, my goodness! I almost forgot. I have a letter from Lizzy.”
~~~
Jane felt a twinge of guilt over sharing a letter Lizzy had gone to such trouble to make private with all and sundry; but in the end, she shared it with everyone left in England who loved her sister the most, and she was no better suited to guilt than to melancholy.
Colonel Fitzwilliam excused himself from the reading and almost managed his escape. Jane pitied him; being dragged back into the room by the combined weight of Mr Darcy, Lady Catherine, and herself was hardly fair, but he must accustom himself to a position of trust.
Jane handed the letter to her good friend Mr Darcy, and took the greatest joy in how well the expression of heartfelt delight became him as he reached the bottom.
The forgiveness of Elizabeth Bennet clearly meant more to him than simple absolution for a past sin, but far be it from Jane Bingley to play matchmaker.
Though rarely spoken of, much like an ancient family secret, everyone in the room except the colonel knew of the incident at Netherfield.
With Jane’s letter examined and exclaimed over, nobody quite knew what to do.
Mr Darcy sat in what some would call his usual stoic demeanour, but which Jane knew was mere thoughtfulness.
He finally reached into his waistcoat pocket and retrieved a letter that appeared as if he had carried, opened, and reread for decades.
He opened it carefully, almost reverently, and handed it to Jane.
Soon, every lady in the room was crying, while the gentlemen struggled not to indulge in such unmanly exhibitions. All except Mr Darcy managed to refrain, but it was a near thing.
At last, Lady Catherine looked most carefully at her nephew. “Did you bring Richard here for a reason?”
“I did.”
Having everyone’s attention, Darcy continued.
“Richard, I asked if you were ready for a project. I need you to act in my stead as Master of Pemberley and guardian of Georgiana for a time. You will have our aunt, your father, and your brother, and even Bingley here as advisors. I have excellent stewards and men of business, but I must be away for perhaps half a year. I wish you to hold my place.”
The colonel started and stared for quite some time, while everyone else strove not to stare at him.
“You would trust me with that… after… after… I am not trained for that, Darcy. Even before, I was not ready.”
Darcy regarded him steadily. “Neither was I at two and twenty, yet I did what had to be done. I expect no less from you.”
The colonel shook his head. “But to trust… to trust.”
Darcy reached out, seized the colonel’s forearm, and squeezed it. “I trust you, Richard. Miss Lucas trusts you. Mrs Bingley trusts you. You can do this, and you will.”
Everyone waited with bated breath, and finally, the colonel nodded in reluctant acquiescence.
He sat nodding for quite some time, before looking at his cousin to ask the obvious question.
“I presume you are for Ohio?”
His cousin’s grin—reminiscent of a schoolboy in deep disgrace with both governess and tutor—was all the answer he needed.