Chapter 17 #2
“My sister has converted you to her enthusiasm for roses, I see,” he observed with a smile, gesturing to the flower in Elizabeth’s hand.
“It is a very well-kept rose garden,” Elizabeth returned approvingly. “I am not at all surprised at Georgiana’s zeal. I believe I should share it in her position. Do you have a favourite rose too, Mr Darcy, or are they all alike to gentlemen?”
At this question, he smiled to himself with some inner reflection.
“I don’t have Georgiana’s expertise or informed preferences,” Mr Darcy said. “But my mother’s favourite roses were those deep red ones there, so I shall take them as my favourites too.”
Saying this, he took the secateurs from his sister and cut two velvety red roses from a bush, presenting one each to his sister and Elizabeth. The brief brushing of his fingers on hers as she accepted her rose sent a shiver of peculiar sensation through Elizabeth’s veins.
“Red Double Velvet,” Georgiana pronounced happily, unaware of anything unusual. “Come, let’s go and give this one to your aunt.”
“I must take these fishing flies back to Mr Gardiner at the lake.” With a polite bow, Mr Darcy excused himself and was gone again.
Elizabeth gazed after him for some seconds, still trying and failing to extrapolate a complete character from all the new facets she was seeing. She could not regret declining his proposal, but she certainly felt some unexpected pangs of sadness when she recalled the scene.
Mr Darcy had never once apologised for any of his rudeness, Elizabeth reminded herself.
Nor had her own belief changed that both love and respect were essential in a marriage.
No, she could not regret turning him down, only the manner in which she had done it, and the unfair accusations she had made, especially at a time when he was under siege from far weightier accusations than hers.
And yet, if she had no regrets, why could she not seem to stop thinking of it?
Firmly telling herself that she would think of it no more, Elizabeth followed Georgiana over towards the older ladies.
∞∞∞
The entire day was a success. From walking in the gardens to luncheon and duets on the piano with Georgiana, Elizabeth enjoyed herself immensely and had the sense that everyone else was equally content.
All Mr Darcy’s awkwardness and arrogance seemed to have fallen away from him. If Elizabeth had not had the evidence of her own memory, she would not have thought him the same man who had offered her such an insulting proposal at Hunsford. Had he learned some humility since she last saw him?
Elizabeth supposed that the unpleasant gossip about his birth might have taught him that, although with Miss King’s departure, she and her family heard less of this now in Meryton and the local area.
She fancied that Georgiana Darcy was entirely unaware of the rumours.
Perhaps that was why her brother was so relaxed here.
“But you must come again tomorrow, Elizabeth,” Georgiana declared when Mr and Mrs Gardiner regretfully announced the need to return to Lambton. “You will, won’t you?”
Elizabeth hesitated, unsure whether her aunt and uncle would want to extend their stay in Lambton by another night, and also unwilling to force Mr Darcy’s hand. He might have made a great effort today in order to demonstrate that he held no ill-will towards her. She should not push him further.
“You would certainly be most welcome,” Mr Darcy asserted, looking to all three of his guests but settling his eyes on Elizabeth. “My sister has little society here at Pemberley at this time of year, and I am not the best of companions for a young woman.”
“That is not true, Fitzwilliam. I like you more than anyone,” Georgiana assured her brother, taking his arm. “But I should like to see Elizabeth and Mr and Mrs Gardiner again too, if it is not inconvenient for them.”
Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle laughed together.
“We should certainly not mind another day at Pemberley,” Mr Gardiner assured his host, and all was soon settled for another visit.
The second day at Pemberley passed just as agreeably as the first, with Mr Darcy remaining both attentive and respectful to Elizabeth.
Neither of them had mentioned either their heated exchange in Hunsford, nor the evil rumours he was battling.
Elizabeth imagined that they both thought these things best forgotten.
As they walked the galleries and hallways of Pemberley, filled with the artworks collected by many generations of the Darcy family, Elizabeth amused herself with the thought that she might have been mistress of this place by now if her principles had been different.
Although her views on matrimony were unchanged, she could no longer say that Mr Darcy was the last man she would ever marry.
In fact, Elizabeth rather hoped that she might now consider both Miss Darcy and Mr Darcy her friends. She was sorry when the day came to an end.
“You must write to me, Georgiana,” Elizabeth entreated the younger woman, having gathered that she did not have many correspondents and wished for more. “I would love to hear about Pemberley in summertime.”
“I shall,” Georgiana assured her, glancing at her brother and sighing with her next sentence. “You must call on me at Darcy House in London when I return there too…maybe next year, I suppose.”
“I promise I will,” said Elizabeth, and embraced the young woman in farewell.
“Mr Darcy will accompany us back to Lambton and take a brandy at the inn with me,” announced Mr Gardiner before Elizabeth could take a final leave of their host. “I have convinced him to allow me this one small gesture of hospitality in return for accepting so much of his.”
“I did not require very much convincing,” Mr Darcy protested with a smile, and then walked out with Elizabeth to the carriage.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth told him as he handed her in and then sat down opposite her, leaving space by the door for Mr and Mrs Gardiner, a few steps behind them.
“There is no reason to thank me,” he said. “I thank you for being so kind to my sister and for your own good company these last two days.”
Mr Darcy looked slightly uncomfortable, but Elizabeth pressed ahead, having had very few opportunities to speak with him alone.
“For some time, I’ve wanted to thank you for opening my eyes to George Wickham’s true nature,” she said swiftly, glancing out of the carriage to ensure the others were not yet at the door. “You wrote bravely.”
“I wrote truly,” Mr Darcy corrected her, and then fell silent as Mr and Mrs Gardiner joined them, Elizabeth’s aunt beginning a conversation about local landmarks remembered from her youth in Derbyshire.
∞∞∞
Two letters were waiting for Elizabeth at the inn when they returned, both in Jane’s handwriting.
“I pray you will all sit by the fireplace and take your drinks,” she urged her companions.
“Do forgive me if I take a few minutes to quickly read Jane’s letters.
I cannot claim urgency, but they do seem to have gone astray on the road in reaching us, and I have had so little news from home since we left. ”
With the approval of all, Elizabeth retreated to the private parlour’s rear corner where the coats hung, and broke the seal on the first letter.
At first, she smiled to hear of ordinary things: Mr Hill chasing a goat running riot in the laundry, Mary learning an unusually mournful new song and Kitty hiding her sheet music, Mrs Bennet’s latest fit of nerves…
Upon reaching the second sheet of writing, however, Elizabeth heard herself cry out aloud in shock.
“Lizzy?” asked her aunt, immediately standing and hurrying to her side, while Mr Darcy and Mr Gardiner looked up from their chairs in alarm. “Is all well?”
Elizabeth could hardly speak and only shook her head, continuing to read while she held the paper in a trembling hand.
By the end of it, she feared she was going to cry.
If only Mr Darcy had not come with them, after all!
She could not bear for him to hear such evil news.
What he would think of her, of her family!
Elizabeth would have concealed her feelings if she could — but that was impossible.
Looking up, she saw three faces looking at her with expressions of great concern, Mr Darcy’s no less interested than the others.
“All is not well,” she managed to tell them, although her voice was cracking. “Lydia has run away from Brighton. She has eloped with George Wickham.”
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Mr Gardiner, coming over and taking the letter from her hand to read it himself.
“Are you quite sure?” her aunt inquired. “There could be no mistake?”
Utterly downcast, Elizabeth shook her head.
“Lydia was staying with Mrs Forster, the wife of the regiment’s colonel. She left a letter saying that they were going to Gretna Green to be married over the Scottish border where no one could stop her. I cannot see how that could be misunderstood.”
“The foolish girl!” muttered Mr Gardiner, his brow knitted anxiously as he read Jane’s letter for himself. “Only sixteen years old and without the consent of her parents. What could Mr Wickham be thinking?”
“Can they be stopped?” asked Mrs Gardiner of her husband and Elizabeth. “Can some message be sent to them, or some responsible persons overtake them on the road?”
Again, Elizabeth had to answer in the negative.
“It is far too late for such things. Look at the dates. As I said, this letter went astray and has been badly delayed in reaching Lambton. Likely they are married already, and there is nothing to be done. My poor father!”
Remembering then that she still held a second letter from Jane in her hand, Elizabeth broke that one open too and saw it was dated only a day after the first. Resigned to Lydia’s unfortunate choice, she began reading but soon made another involuntary sound and looked up to her companions, aghast.
“They are not married,” Elizabeth told them all faintly, distantly aware that Darcy’s eyes looked as horrified as she felt.
“Whatever Lydia planned when she left the Forsters’ house has not transpired.
Poor, foolhardy Lydia! She and Wickham were seen travelling to London and have sent no word to anyone since.
They are presumed now to be hiding there without any intention of marriage. Oh, the wickedness of him!”
“Has anything been done to discover them?” Mr Darcy asked keenly, leaning forward in his chair. “Has anyone searched?”
“My father has gone to London with Colonel Forster to look for them,” Elizabeth answered, wiping away a tear. “The colonel must return to his regiment, and I doubt my father will have any greater success alone. I don’t know what more can be done, even if Lydia were found. She is lost.”
“Lost” did not begin to cover the desolation that Elizabeth felt at such awful news.
Lydia was ruined, and the Bennet family along with her.
This escapade had put her poor, unthinking sister beyond the pale of any fit society.
What man would ever marry any of the sisters now, with such infamy attached to their family name?
At a stroke, Elizabeth’s own future had been even more blighted than that of Mr Darcy, who at least had the defence of money and property.
The prospect of any future friendship with the Darcy family was gone, too.
Mr Darcy himself would not wish to entangle himself with another scandal and would certainly not want his sister to be touched by such a socially poisonous shadow.
“You have my greatest sympathies, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy told her now, rising and reaching for his coat as though he had read the very thoughts in her mind.
“You will not want the company of strangers at this time. I will leave you to your private business. Of course, you can be assured of my discretion. Good night.”
“Goodbye, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth answered, feeling that it really was the final farewell. “Thank you.”
With only a small bow of acknowledgment and farewell, he was gone. Even without his final assurance, Elizabeth knew they could rely on Mr Darcy to be discreet and refrain from spreading news of Lydia’s disgrace. Both his nature and his own recent experience would keep him from such behaviour.
This knowledge did little to temper the bitterness of his swift departure, however, any more than Elizabeth’s private admission that she could not blame him for it.
“I will order the coach and horses to be readied immediately,” Mr Gardiner announced then, his face grave and urgent. “I know London far better than your father and will take over his search. They must be found and made to marry. It is the only way.”
Elizabeth nodded and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, knowing both that her uncle was right, but also that the chances of achieving either goal must be slim.
“Come, Elizabeth,” added her aunt. “I will call for the maid to help pack our cases, and we can leave as soon as possible. We might make two stages tonight before we take rooms on the road.”