Chapter 22 Correspondence
Darcy stared at the ground again, chagrined to have his contention verified. His wife did not like him and never had. It was painful, but he had to admit he readily deserved it.
Jane gave him a moment to compose himself, then gently said, “That brings us back to Lydia’s contention.”
Darcy had by then entirely forgotten what it was.
“Lydia claimed she was the only one who supported Lizzy’s position, which was this: She thoroughly disliked you, from the moment you called her ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’ I remember the words exactly, because she used to lower her voice and mock you by repeating them.
It did not help that Miss Bingley routinely disparaged us, and you seemed to agree. We all—”
Then Jane stared at the ground, and Darcy saw tears starting to roll out of her eyes, but she gamely continued.
“We, all of us, even you, Lydia at first, told her to get over it, to grow up, to put away her childish things, to do her duty—different variants of the same things. Even I, who she previously considered her best friend and tightest confidant, told her you would grow on her if she gave you a chance.”
Darcy asked curiously, “Did you believe it at the time?”
Jane was still crying, but she continued, “Mostly—I think, more or less. I could not have done it, but Lizzy—she could charm people if she bothered, and she had the strength to carry through. I thought she could.” Then she looked embarrassed as well as sad, but gamely continued, “I thought she could tame you. Make an adequate husband of you. As you have probably noticed, our standards for husbands are quite low.”
Darcy was surprised at the dig at Mr Bennet from his supposedly angelic eldest daughter, though it could just as easily be aimed at Bingley, or even just how precarious their marital prospects were.
It made him curious. “I will not press you, but I will ask this. She came to the church and said the vows reluctantly. What finally convinced her after two failed escape attempts? She could have just refused at the altar. If your father threw her out, she would be short on funds, but finally free as she wanted.”
Jane just shook her head in negation, but surprisingly, Kitty said, “I know.”
Everyone stared and she spoke emphatically, “I was not eavesdropping. It is not my fault she and Father spoke so loudly, and I happened to be walking by the library.”
Everyone looked sceptical but said nothing, so she continued in a whisper.
“He said somebody would be married from Longbourn within the month. Before Mother intervened, he was planning to exert pressure on Lizzy to marry Mr Collins,” then she looked at Darcy who seemed confused, so she clarified, “his heir. The man who introduced himself to you at the Netherfield ball. He is Lady Catherine’s vicar. ”
Darcy nodded, remembering the odd little man, who had made a speech that was nonsensical even for one of Lady Catherine’s pets, and shuddered.
Kitty continued, “He said if Lizzy dug her heels in, he would force one of us to marry Mr Collins.”
By that time, she had almost, but not quite, joined Jane in her tears, but she bravely carried on.
“Mr Collins is a fool and a brute. Jane is too soft-hearted to manage him. Mary was frightened of him. Lizzy firmly thought Lydia and I were too young, though if anybody could handle that idiot, it would be Lizzy or Lydia.”
Lydia just laughed. “Yes, I certainly could, but who wants to marry a clergyman?”
Everyone laughed at the way she said it, with disdain practically dripping from her voice. It gave Jane time to dry her eyes with her handkerchief and look at Darcy. “She married you to save us, even though we all suggested a sacrificial lamb was a good idea so long as it was someone else.”
Mary said, “Did she leave a note? No matter how angry she was, she would leave a note.”
“As a matter of fact, she did. She left me several messages, in a way.”
Everyone looked curious, so he described the furniture, the money left in piles, the complete lack of anything suggesting she had ever been there except a dropped handkerchief, and finally, how she extracted money from his neighbours.
“That last part is very clever, much cleverer than anything I have ever done. I must admit to being proud of her for it, though I have not earned the privilege.”
Thinking he had already told the sisters ten times what he had planned, he said, “She also left an actual note, but I cannot decipher it.”
The ladies clamoured to see it, so Darcy pulled it out of his waistcoat pocket.
23 June 1812, Lambton
Mr Jennings & Mrs Reynolds
The time has come to meet with my husband.
You need not worry, as I have all in hand, and know what I am doing.
Molly and Noah are escorting me for my safety, and to maintain propriety.
We are leaving on the 11:37 coach from Lambton and expect to be gone several months.
I apologise that I could not notify you sooner.
It has been a great pleasure getting to know both of you, and I am indebted to the entire, excellent staff of Pemberley for offering me the warmest welcome possible. I suggest you carry on as before until Mr Darcy returns.
Elizabeth Darcy
They all read it three or four times, which did not take long.
Darcy said, “The time seems odd. I checked and there are no coaches scheduled from Lambton at that time, and coaches are not scheduled to that precision anyway. The 10:00 might be anytime between 9:30 and 10:30, and that is if all is going well. I cannot decipher it.”
Mary said, “I can.”
Everyone looked, and she said, “I was frightened I might be fobbed off on Mr Collins after Lizzy was gone, so she spoke to me the night before the wedding. Even though I had been horrible to her, she took the time to set my mind at ease. At the time, she was such a burning ball of anger that I could not tell if she wanted me to feel guilty for the sacrifice she was making or to comfort me that I would not be called on to do the same.”
She paused and took a deep breath. “She described the ‘bargain’ she made with Father in detail.”
She stared rather carefully at Darcy. “Did you ever show her this side of yourself?”
Confused, he asked, “Which side, Miss Mary?”
“Polite, respectful, dare I say, amiable. I get that you are desperate to find your wife, but you cannot invent this demeanour from whole cloth. It must have been hidden there all along.”
Darcy hung his head and whispered, “I did not get the chance, or more correctly, I did not take the chance when it was readily available. I wrote several letters, first from my ship and then from France, once I cooled down and thought more rationally, but she never got them. Her last impression of me was the argument we had on the way to Hatfield, in which I did not distinguish myself. I arrived at Pemberley a month too late.”
He looked back at the ladies. “I see you all feel shame for the way you treated your sister. I double or treble that. I did not treat my wife well. I am not surprised she left—only that she stayed so long.”
Mary continued, “She told Father she would ‘give you six months to say one kind word.’ She said it could be in word or writing, but if she did not get one kind word in six months, then she would ‘know how to act.’ You were pronounced man and wife at exactly 11:37 on the twenty-third of December, six months to the minute before the time she put on this note. The time was not a message to you—it was to me. She knew I would know the time to the minute.”
Darcy stared at the ground. “Not quite. It was a message to us all. I think she framed it in a way that would only make sense if we all were part of interpreting the note. I suppose she thought that if we could not get together to decipher it, we did not deserve to know. Or perhaps, it was her last attempt to get me to do my duty to her sisters. However angry she was with you, I doubt you ever entirely left her heart, and she is perfectly aware that I have obligations.”
Everyone stared at the ground with no idea what to do or say.
Jane finally said, “We all had a hand in this. We all bear the guilt.”
Darcy saw tears in her eyes, and replied, “Perhaps we all had a hand in it, but I believe my fault is paramount.”
Mary shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not. We all had a hand in this, but the original sin was from our parents in general, and our mother in particular. Everything bad was triggered by her forcing the marriage on you. What did you do in the beginning? You gently pulled a woman who was attacking your honour in the middle of a dance over to the side to defend yourself. You could have acted better after that—”
“Much better. I could have acted better before that as well. There were ample opportunities to do right, and I foolishly missed every one of them.”
“Yes, much better, but so could we all have.”
Surprisingly, Kitty worked out the next problem.
“What happens if you do not find her? By your own supposition, she is likely travelling somewhere she will never be found. You are still married, so you will be stuck in some kind of Limbo—no wife and no way to remarry.”
“It is too soon to think about that. She clearly did not think I deserved any consideration. I just want to find her and talk to her. After that, if she is amenable, we will work out a way to resolve it somehow.”
They were all shuffling around, trying to decide if they should go to the house, and what they should do if they got there, when they heard the clopping of a galloping horse.
Just the sound was enough for Longman to identify it.
“An express rider. They can only ride like that for a mile or so, and they usually do it right at the end to make an entrance. It gives the impression they galloped the whole way, even if they were walking the past ten miles or sitting in a pub for an hour.”