Chapter 15
Mr Collins’s visit was not commented on by the others. It seemed that Mr Bennet had discussed it with his wife, and in no time they all forgot about the obsequious parson, as the upcoming wedding occupied all their thoughts and activities.
Torn between the need to go to London to attend to some urgent business matters and his fear of leaving his betrothed, Mr Bingley looked even more bewildered than usual.
Only when he received his future father-in-law’s assurance that he would not take his eyes off Jane for a moment did he decide to return to London for a few days before the wedding.
“Your sisters and Mr Hurst are invited to stay here, at Netherfield,” Elizabeth said just before their departure.
The gentleman’s gratitude was so profound that she smiled, feeling that she had changed and that her former rancour had been forgotten.
By contrast, he was still ashamed of his sisters’ behaviour and bad manners.
“Enough,” Jane had declared. “In less than three weeks, we will be family, and we must forget the past. I hope they will receive me as their sister.”
Bingley also hoped that they would behave graciously towards his wife. Secretly, however, his decision was taken—at the slightest hint of animosity, he would cut the connection with them until they changed their attitude.
The two lovebirds were almost impossible to separate.
They postponed their departure for nearly an hour, as Bingley remembered a great many things he needed to say to Jane, all very important and all regarding their wedding.
Darcy and Thomas, who were making the journey with them, waited with much patience, letting the newly betrothed gentleman decide when he was ready to leave.
Darcy felt a kindred joy, but he did not dare express his feelings so freely.
For him, it had been a gratifying stay, even if no definitive word had passed between himself and Elizabeth.
They had had some occasions to be almost alone, walking from Netherfield to Meryton or Longbourn with Jane, Bingley, and the others. Still, they had not crossed that particular border between amiability and insinuations of a possible continuation of their relationship.
“Let us wait for my trip to London,” Elizabeth said once, when Mr Darcy almost begged for an answer.
“I need to know at least that we have forgotten everything about Kent.”
“Everything?” Elizabeth asked with an amused expression.
“Almost,” Darcy agreed. “There is one single subject that must be remembered.”
“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said with much kindness, “as you have seen, our life is in the middle of a great transformation. We are happy about everything that is happening, but I need a little peace of mind. We both need to have an amicable relationship for a while. No fighting or resentment.”
“I agree, but I do not want us to end as merely friends,” he tried to joke, though it was a serious matter to him. It was dangerous to let love become friendship and not evolve towards more intense feelings.
“A marriage needs friendship as a basis,” Elizabeth said, trying to draw him away from speaking of feelings and marriage.
“Yes, perhaps, but we are not the sort of people to be satisfied only with friendship.”
That was very true. And seeing Jane and Bingley, his wish for more became even stronger. They emanated love. Once in the same room with the happy couple, it was impossible not to feel the emotion filling the space between them. All around them, people smiled and tended to join hands.
“I want you to be certain that I regret advising Bingley not to return to Netherfield. They are meant to be together,” Mr Darcy said.
Feeling that he wished to add something about the two of them, Elizabeth spoke in haste.
“The time will come, Mr Darcy, when we shall understand more about ourselves. It is not a whim; on the contrary, it is my wish to have what they have.”
Nevertheless, seeing the carriage leave the park, Elizabeth was overwhelmed by sadness.
Close to him, she had experienced so many feelings, from friendship to the urge to be in his arms. When he had kissed her hand on one occasion, her whole body had ached from the sweet sensation his lips had awakened.
She liked him more with every moment spent near him, even his severity, which was in fact seriousness, for he was a man with many responsibilities, whilst she was only a young lady.
Then she had enjoyed his wit, which resembled that of her father and uncle.
Since his arrival, she had discovered him tender, in love, and eager to satisfy her wishes or whims.
“Tell me what to expect from the future, Elizabeth,” he had whispered one evening when they walked in the park.
It was then that he had kissed her hand, and most likely he had felt the shiver that passed through her body.
He did not dare believe it was because of him and supposed it was the mild wind blowing from the woods.
Had he looked more closely, he would have seen her eyes blurred by the intensity of that feeling.
“Have patience, Fitzwilliam,” she had whispered, but if that night he had taken her into his arms and asked her again to be his wife, she would have said yes.
At the same time, they both returned in memory to that magic moment between them: he in his carriage on the way to London, she alone in the park, still wishing to hear at least the sound of the carriage wheels in the distance.
“What is happening between you and Mr Darcy?” Jane asked.
Once Mr Bingley had gone, she had some moments when she could think of something other than her love.
“I do not know yet.”
“You lie, dear little sister!” Jane said with unusual vigour. “Those eyes of yours tell me something else.”
“I do not lie; perhaps I am not yet ready to unveil the truth.”
“To me?” her sister asked, surprised.
“No, Jane. To myself.”
“I do not understand,” Jane replied, not because she did not see the meaning, but because for her, love was the most visible thing that could happen to a woman or a man.
“We are not like you. You are the very best of the human race: truthful, pure, and generous.”
“Stop, Lizzy, stop! As always, when it comes to me, you exaggerate!”
Elizabeth shook her head, though Jane was right.
She admired her sister with her whole heart, but she preferred her own way of feeling and acting in life.
Even her anger had sometimes proved necessary or useful.
That continuous state of happiness, of living upon a cloud, was not her way.
She liked Mr Darcy. It was a genuine feeling, and perhaps she had felt it from the first time she saw him.
He attracted her in a way no other man ever had.
Still, she wanted to take small steps towards a relationship, to discover the man and find the woman inside herself.
She did not want a blind feeling to force her into a relationship that would last a lifetime.
But lately, she had also come to accept that anger was not a state from which a decision of such importance could be made.
“Do you love him?” Jane asked impatiently.
“I like him a great deal, and when I am close to him, I experience unknown feelings and impulses—”
“It is love, Lizzy, love.”
“Then the answer will reveal itself, but I need time.”
“I did not like Mr Darcy in the beginning and did not understand why Charles was so close a friend to him, but during the last few days I have discovered that he is a pleasant man and a loyal friend and, last but not least, a man in love with you. It is what I saw, and Charles confirmed it.”
Elizabeth nodded again. At least she had made one correct decision after the catastrophe in Kent: she had told nobody, apart from her aunt Gardiner, what had happened there.
Jane would never know about Mr Darcy’s role in Mr Bingley’s estrangement.
She would forever blame his sisters, which was neither mean nor wrong, because Mr Darcy regretted his interference whilst Caroline and Louisa, no doubt, still hated their family.
Yet circumstances had changed, and their father was now the owner of Netherfield.
“Yes, I agree. He is an honest man and far more pleasant and kind than he appeared to be last November, but my dear, now I am free to marry whomever I want—”
“I know!” Jane cried. “However, Mama and Papa would never have forced any of us to marry for money. Remember what happened when Mr Collins wanted to marry one of us!”
“Yes, it is true. But in the past, the precarious condition of our family could have influenced our decision, whilst now, with Netherfield in our possession and a fifteen-thousand-pound dowry each, I can marry any man in England and have no need to worry about Mama or our sisters.”
“Lizzy! Do you think Uncle Thomas will give each of us such a dowry?”
“Yes, Papa already spoke to Mr Bingley—”
“Oh, that devil!” Jane exclaimed with so much affection that even the word devil sounded like a caress. “He did not say a word!”
“Perhaps because he is afraid that now you are an heiress, you will fly away from him!”
And both sisters tittered, so comic was the thought.