Chapter 16
Revelations
Mr. Darcy did not make an appearance that night.
Neither did he show up the next morning.
Elizabeth could not help but feel a great foreboding about his absence. Yet, she carried the unfinished letter with her—the fresh sheets she had copied out in ink—wherever she went. She hoped he would appear eventually.
…and that night too, she went to bed in her morning dress.
Not her dinner clothes. Those had gotten horribly wrinkled the last time she slept in them.
“Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth jolted awake at the sound close to her side.
She turned her head. Mr. Darcy was kneeling on the floor next to her bed. His tall frame, suddenly, at a more companionable distance from where she lay.
Her heart hammered in her chest.
“Mr. Darcy.”
She glanced at the door then back at him, hoping Maria would not hear her speaking this time. A deep blush warmed her face.
Mr. Darcy had never been this close to her before. Despite the darkness, she could see the softness in his eyes as he held her gaze. She had the sudden urge to reach out and touch his face...
That immediately made Elizabeth sit up and clear her throat.
“You have returned.”
“Yes,” he said, standing up.
They did not speak as she lit the candle beside her bed. Then she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and yawned.
“Lady Catherine sent some spies to find your whereabouts while you were not here.”
Mr. Darcy looked alarmed. “Spies? What do you mean?”
She threw the cover aside and stood up. “Well, one cannot call them spies precisely,” she said. “They were simply a pair of footmen recruited for the task. But they were meant to tail the messenger who came with news of you, and discover where you are convalescing.”
The alarm on Mr. Darcy’s face intensified. Elizabeth suppressed a sigh as she remembered the tea at Rosings earlier that day.
“You will be glad to know Colonel Fitzwilliam’s man sent them packing. Her ladyship was very upset about it, understandably.” She wondered how many more of such engagements at Rosings she would have to endure before her eventual return to Longbourn.
Bewilderment and doubt quickly crossed Mr. Darcy’s face. Then a quiet thoughtfulness settled over it.
“I am not dead?”
He sounded unsure. Elizabeth bit her lip.
“I do not know, Mr. Darcy. I hope that is so… and the message did say you are beginning to heal. But…” She eyed him. “It does not explain how you are here.”
Mr. Darcy dropped his gaze to the floor. Elizabeth picked up the candle and carried it to her writing desk.
“Shall we proceed with the letter? I believe we are nearly done with it.”
She gazed at him over her shoulder. Mr. Darcy was still standing where she had left him.
Then, he looked at her. There was an odd intensity in his eyes. She raised her brows.
“If you would not mind, Miss Bennet, I would like to dictate a different letter to my cousin,” he said.
Elizabeth could feel her brows climbing higher.
“Do you mean… we should start afresh?”
“No, just my portion.”
A grimness had begun to settle over Mr. Darcy’s face. It disconcerted Elizabeth as she sat down on her chair.
“Very well, Mr. Darcy. You may speak when you are ready.” She pulled some rough sheets towards herself and reached for a pencil.
He did.
Richard,
I do not have time to beat around the bush, so I shall only mention what will confirm my identity to you in the quickest manner. I refer to Ramsgate.
You know what Wickham attempted to do with Georgiana.
You know that the only people privy to it will never break our confidence.
Not Matthew, the groom, Ellis, the footman, or Georgiana’s maid, Lucy.
You know Wickham and Mrs. Younge tried to extract five hundred pounds for their silence after asking for three thousand at first. How you gave Wickham a good hiding and a broken nose when you arrived shortly after.
I do not know if Miss Bennet will keep our confidence. I hope she does. I believe she will. But I cannot think of anything else that will make you consider this odd circumstance with the seriousness it demands. Because I demand it of you.
If you believe me, come to Lady Catherine’s parson’s house in Hunsford. I shall have a letter ready for Georgiana by the time you do. I do not believe I will live long, if I am not dead already.
This miracle—for I cannot call it anything else, shall be my last words to you.
I hope you will be a good guardian to Georgie and keep her away from the wastrels of the peerage.
Do not let her marry someone who only wants Pemberley.
And, for God’s sake, do not let Lady Catherine meddle!
Or your mother and father for that matter.
Definitely do not let Lawrence Delaney near her. I stand by what I said about him.
You are a good man, Richard. I shall miss your sorry face but let us not meet on the other side anytime soon. I shall watch from above for the day your mother successfully gets you hitched and off the battlefield. God bless.
Yours faithfully &c.
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Elizabeth stopped writing and clutched the pencil tightly in her hand.
She knew her face was wet from crying near-silent tears but she could not bring herself to move an inch. Or look up. Her heart raced in her chest.
“Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Forgive me,” Mr. Darcy said gently. “It was not my intention to distress you.”
“Think nothing of it, sir,” she said, at last. Then she looked at him fiercely.
“Why would you let him spread rumours about you in Meryton?”
Mr. Darcy searched her eyes. He raised a questioning brow.
“Mr. Wickham,” she clarified.
He grimaced.
“I was not privy to what was being said about me.”
Elizabeth got up from her seat and walked to the nightstand where she stored her handkerchieves. She could not bear to look at Mr. Darcy anymore. Shame swept through her as she roughly pulled out a drawer and reached for a piece of embroidered linen.
How could she have believed everything Mr. Wickham said? On such slight acquaintance that too!
“Where should I send the finished letter?”
The handkerchief—recently wet from the tears on her face—rested in a fist. Elizabeth stared at the wood grains on the top of the nightstand, keeping her back to Mr. Darcy.
“To Matlock House in Mayfair.”
She nodded.
“I shall post it in the morning.”
When she finally had the courage to turn around, Mr. Darcy was not in the room anymore. Elizabeth felt her heart twinge painfully.
She hoped that would not be the last time she saw him. More tears trailed down her face.