Chapter 26
Charlotte’s Way
Fate does not always unfold infinitesimally.
Sometimes, it unfolds all at once.
When Charlotte knocked on Elizabeth’s door later that same night, the latter was in the middle of writing Miss Darcy’s letter, with Mr. Darcy seated near her in his usual chair.
“Eliza, I have news!” Charlotte said as she hurried in and closed the door behind her. She was still dressed in the gown she had worn to Rosings.
“News?” Elizabeth asked, glancing discreetly at Mr. Darcy.
“Yes,” Charlotte said, and then paused. Her eyes swept over Elizabeth’s clothes. “You are not in your nightclothes. That is good! I was worried you might be.”
“Yes, well…” Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Why?”
“I shall tell you in a minute. Let me catch my breath.”
Charlotte walked deeper into the room and started for the chair where Mr. Darcy was sitting. A look of alarm flashed across both Elizabeth and his face.
“Not that!”
Elizabeth quickly stepped in front of Charlotte and physically maneuvered her friend into the chair she had occupied just moments ago.
“Sit here! It is more comfortable.”
“Eliza!”
Charlotte huffed in exasperation.
And then her eyes fell on the papers on the desk.
A frown etched itself between Charlotte’s brows. Her gaze shifted to the other chair. The one with Mr. Darcy… who looked even more uncomfortable than he had before. He quickly vacated the seat.
“Eliza?” Charlotte asked, slowly turning her gaze on Elizabeth. “Is Mr. Darcy here?”
Elizabeth felt her face flame.
“Well…”
“He is, is he not?!” Charlotte cried, glancing at Mr. Darcy’s chair again. She threw up her hands and stood up.
“On my word, Eliza! I do not like this.”
“Charlotte, please,” Elizabeth said quickly. “It is not–”
“Eliza, unmarried men and women cannot be alone without a chaperone,” Charlotte said, exasperation clear on her face. “I always believed you were meeting outside.” She glared at the empty chair. “Surely you are aware of that, sir.”
Mr. Darcy—who was standing next to it—flushed bright red.
Charlotte threw her hands up again, perhaps at the ridiculousness of speaking to thin air, and turned back to Elizabeth. “Can he hear me?”
“Charlotte…” Elizabeth began.
“Mrs. Collins is not wrong, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy.
He shifted uncomfortably. Guilt and embarrassment were clearly marked on his face.
“It was not my intention to make you feel importuned.”
“Eliza?”
Elizabeth turned back to Charlotte. The latter had her eyebrows arched.
“Can Mr. Darcy hear me?” she asked again.
“I will be outside,” Mr. Darcy said.
Elizabeth huffed in annoyance—looking from one to another. She held up a hand.
“Can the two of you give me a moment to speak?!”
A beat of awkward silence spread through the room.
Mr. Darcy looked conflicted. Charlotte affronted.
Elizabeth sighed.
“Charlotte, nothing untoward has happened between me and Mr. Darcy,” she said. “Surely you can see these are extraordinary circumstances?”
Then she added quickly—on seeing the still-affronted look on Charlotte’s face and the deepening guilt on his: “Mr. Darcy has never broken propriety with me… other than what could not be avoided.”
She looked in his direction. He was staring at the floorboards, hands in his coat pockets.
“...I was helping him write a letter.”
Silence permeated the room once more. The only sound, that of a distant owl hooting somewhere outside the window.
Charlotte “hmm-ed” after a beat. Elizabeth frowned at her in exasperation. “You had some news, Charlotte, did you not?”
Mr. Darcy raised his head.
“Yes,” Charlotte answered, a half-uncertain, half-disapproving cast to her brows as she glanced at the empty chair again.
“I have found a way for you to visit Mr. Darcy.”
And so, there they were.
“How did you do it?”
Elizabeth asked Charlotte as the covered cart they were in rattled and bumped along the road.
Their pace was slow enough to not risk danger in the darkness—and relative quiet—of the night. Yet fast enough so they could reach their destination in a few hours. Elizabeth did not know where they were going though.
“It is something only Mrs. Collins can do,” Charlotte replied, in her usual ironic self-confidence.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
It was just like her friend to persuade the most unpersuadable to do as she wished. She peered through the tiny window on her side at Colonel Fitzwilliam on horseback.
He, and two other footmen from Rosings, were accompanying them on the journey that had unfolded in the most dramatic—albeit clandestine—manner.
As it turned out, Lady Catherine had some people on her employ who were more loyal to her nephews than the ladyship herself. But the cart belonged to a parishioner who owed Charlotte a large kindness. After all, they could not risk taking a carriage from Rosings.
Elizabeth did not know how Charlotte had managed to arrange it all. But she had.
And so there she was.
Sitting beside Charlotte—cloth bag with some bare necessities and a change of clothes near her feet—bumping along on the main highway, with Mr. Collins and Maria sleeping soundly far behind in the parsonage and none the wiser.
“I must say, I never imagined I would do something like this.”
Elizabeth turned back to Charlotte. Her voice was a hushed whisper in the stark silence. “Least of all with you!”
“Why not? Is Mrs. Collins too practical to do such a thing?”
“Stop that, Charlotte! You know what I mean.”
They were silent for some more moments. Each lost in their own thoughts.
“What I cannot believe is finding Mr. Darcy in your room,” Charlotte said.
Elizabeth’s cheeks grew heated.
“You say that as if you found us in the middle of something compromising,” she retorted.
“Perhaps not.”
Charlotte turned to give Elizabeth her full attention. There was an unsettling pity in her eyes.
“But, Eliza, I must caution you to not catch feelings for the man. However extraordinary the circumstances might be, it may not turn out as you wish.”
Elizabeth bit her lip.
“Besides, it would not be prudent even if Mr. Darcy was not on his deathbed,” Charlotte added.
Silence descended between them once more.
Elizabeth stared out of the window at the distant outline of dark trees. The cart continued to rattle along the road. Its wheels seemed to dip into every pothole! Her heart ached.
“Why not?” she asked after a while.
Her voice was uncharacteristically small.
“Hmm?” Charlotte looked at her. And then her expression settled into one of gentle kindness.
Elizabeth did not like it one bit… even in the shadowy gloom of the lantern lights swinging outside the cart.
“Because, unlike Mrs. Collins and her practicality,” Charlotte said, taking her hand. “You, my dear Eliza, deserve more than an attachment born from extraordinary circumstances.”
Tears prickled in Elizabeth’s eyes.
“You would not be happy without true love.”