Chapter Twenty-One #2
He drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, recalling to mind every instance of Elizabeth displaying by some look or jest that she felt what he did.
He had grown surer of it in recent days, and yet he had also wavered at times.
But he could not waver now, as he stared down his cousin.
Never had he imagined they should ever be rivals, but if they must be, it would not be for long.
Darcy schooled his countenance into neutrality as he excused himself from the room. He strode out of the house and allowed his feet to carry him to where he most wished to be – to throw himself on Elizabeth’s mercy before the viscount could.
***
Elizabeth knew not how long she had been weeping in the foyer; she only roused herself when her Aunt Madeline came rushing down the stairs.
She reached the bottom and came to crouch in front of Elizabeth.
“I just looked in on Jane when a maid came to tell me you had run mad, and were cursing and accosting a visitor. What has happened?”
Elizabeth laughed through her tears. “It was only Willoughby,” Elizabeth said. “You know I shall always be fiercely protective of those I love, and that awful scalawag has wounded my cousin and my sister.”
“Lizzy, what language! But I am very well-rested, which is proof that you are not. Jane is sleeping comfortably, and so too should you be, my dear.”
Elizabeth allowed her aunt to pull her to her feet, but then she began to protest. “I had three cups of coffee this morning, before Jane awoke – and even if I could sleep, I should only be awake all through the night, while everyone else is abed.”
Mrs. Gardiner pressed her lips into a thin line of disapproval, but before she could admonish her niece, the bell at the front door was rung.
The housekeeper bustled into the foyer, looking astonished to find Elizabeth and her aunt already there.
Mrs. Gardiner arched an eyebrow at Elizabeth.
“I trust you shall be civil to our callers, Lizzy?”
“Yes, of course.” Elizabeth allowed her aunt to lead her into the parlor, where she wiped at her face and grimaced at her wild appearance in the mirror.
She was then forced to endure a quarter hour of Miss Bingley’s false commiseration, backhanded insults, and shameless boasting.
A veritable parade of callers followed, and Elizabeth’s patience was worn thin by the society snobs who only came to glean gossip about Mrs. Jennings’s disgraced relation.
Mrs. Gardiner dealt with them all deftly, and Elizabeth was in awe of her aunt’s abilities to evade the topic of Lucy Steele and say everything required to remain on civil terms with the acquaintance they had made in London before hinting that Jane’s illness made it inappropriate for the visitors to overstay their welcome.
Elizabeth had roused herself tolerably well from her ill humor, for her stubborn will was resolved that she would not disgrace her aunt, nor give Mrs. Gardiner any cause to again attempt to send her to bed.
She relaxed a little in the company of Mrs. Palmer and Colonel Brandon, both of whom she had grown fond of since coming to London.
There was one caller, however, who threatened to shatter Elizabeth’s tenuous grasp on equanimity.
Charlotte Lucas was shown into the parlor, accompanied by her sister-in-law, Lady Selina Lucas.
Elizabeth stumbled through the civilities, recollecting her last meeting with Charlotte as if it were only yesterday.
Mrs. Gardiner, and even Mrs. Palmer offered Elizabeth looks of commiseration throughout their tepid chatter with Lady Selina, until finally Charlotte came to the point of her visit.
Hanging her head a little, she offered Elizabeth a bland apology for her behavior in Hertfordshire, claiming she had been mad with grief over Mr. Collins, and then she thanked Elizabeth for advising her to reconcile with her brother’s wife.
Elizabeth did her best to be gracious, though she comprehended Charlotte’s true reason for making amends as her former friend began flirting with Colonel Brandon.
Lady Selina confirmed Elizabeth’s suspicions, mortifying Charlotte before the colonel as she informed the other ladies of her intention to find Charlotte a suitable husband, declaring how tragic it should be to see her end an old maid.
“You have met my mother, Mrs. Jennings, I think,” Mrs. Palmer said, her expression turning uncommonly satirical.
“And she has heard all about you from Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Dashwood. But perhaps you are not meant for marriage. I have a cousin – a very distant cousin – whose betrothed was killed in battle on the continent. She became a ladies’ companion, and she has been happy with some old dowager in the north of England.
I believe old Mrs. Ferrars is in search of such a companion as she recovers from her apoplexy, for all of her children have been dismissed for displeasing her. ”
Mrs. Palmer appeared deliriously pleased with herself, and Elizabeth did her best to conceal her own pleasure in seeing Charlotte so thoroughly unsettled. It had taken all of Elizabeth’s restraint not to snipe at the grasping creature herself, for she would not risk her aunt’s displeasure.
Mrs. Gardiner briskly turned the subject to Jane’s recent illness, thanked them for their sympathy and well-wishes, and had all their callers out of the house in another quarter hour.
She had just commended Elizabeth for her patience – patience Elizabeth was very near the end of – when a letter arrived.
It had been sent express from Longbourn to Mrs. Gardiner, who opened it at once.
Elizabeth waited expectantly, and ere long her aunt cried out in alarm.
“Your sister Lydia was sent to visit her friend Mrs. Forster in Hampshire, at Colonel Forster’s new estate.
Mrs. Dashwood writes that Lydia was not two days with her friends before she was induced by an officer of the colonel’s former regiment, who had also traveled there, to form an attachment and run away with him. ”
“Good God,” Elizabeth cried, one hand on her chest in dismay as she sank down onto a sofa. In a state of exhaustion and vexation already, she was too stunned to make any further reply.
Mrs. Gardiner sat down beside Elizabeth and continued to summarize the letter aloud as she read it.
“Your mother has taken to her bed… Kitty and Margaret are cross that they shall not go ice-skating on Mr. Bingley’s pond…
oh! Marianne and Elinor have been guests at Netherfield these four days, and Lady Rebecca would keep them there so the scandal does not affect – oh dear. ”
“What about Papa? He must do something,” Elizabeth cried.
Mrs. Gardiner scanned the letter. “He intends to come to London tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow! Not today? ‘Tis scarcely noon,” Elizabeth huffed, her hands balling into fists at her side.
“When Colonel Forster sent word to Longbourn, he offered to meet Mr. Bennet here in London tomorrow, to aid in discovering Lydia and her beau; he does not believe Mr. Wickham intends to elope with her to Scotland.”
Elizabeth gasped, and a wave of dizziness caused her to grip the arm of the sofa with one hand, and her aunt’s arm with the other. “Mr. Wickham?”
She felt a sudden heaviness in the pit of her stomach as she recalled the instinctive repulsion she had experienced toward Mr. Wickham at Mrs. Jenning’s Christmas Eve celebration at Purvis Lodge.
She had grown wary of him then for pursuing Mary King – she had borne him no ill will, but she had firmly resolved that she would not allow him to regain her affection when she had just come into possession of a fortune.
“But Lydia… the funds given to Mamma for my younger sisters….”
Mrs. Gardiner smiled tightly, and a dark shadow in her eyes bespoke her silent agreement. She offered the letter to Elizabeth, who was too stunned to take it, and so she laid it open on the table in front of the sofa.
And then the housekeeper announced the arrival of Mr. Darcy. The ladies slowly stood, and Elizabeth felt so keenly aware of the tension and dismay that radiated from them all, as if it were a palpable fog she would be obliged to wade through to reach the man… the man she loved.
“Forgive me for intruding in such a state,” he said gravely. “I must ask for a private audience with Miss Elizabeth.
“Of course,” Mrs. Gardiner said, her manners at once adjusting to accommodate him, and what his request implied.
“It is so good to see you, sir. Jane is recovering – you must have heard of it from Lady Matilda. I meant to go look in on my niece; I shall go upstairs for a quarter hour, and then return, and we can all take tea.”
Mrs. Gardiner excused herself, turning back to look over her shoulder and subtly reminding Elizabeth to smile, and then she closed the door as she left the room.
Elizabeth remained rooted in place, her heart beating wildly and her mind suddenly blank.
She knew in her heart that he was about to propose, but she could not have given him her own first name if he had asked it of her in that moment.
“Mr. Darcy….”
“Elizabeth.” He bowed and then stepped forward, his hand outstretched, but just out of reach. He was breathing heavily, and his appearance was not exactly disheveled, but somehow less tidy than she had ever seen him.
“Did you run here? Is something the matter?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, breathing out a heavy sigh.
“I had to see you at once. I hardly knew what I was about; Bellamy said he had given up on courting your sister, that he found another lady of the house more suited to him, and I found myself running mad – actually running through Mayfair to throw myself upon your mercy and beg you to choose me.”
Elizabeth gaped at him, her eyebrows raised impossibly high as her jaw hung agape at his declaration. She could make no sense of it at all.