Chapter 35 #2
Though her wish was too late to help Lydia, it seemed to work wonders for Jane, for when they arrived home, it was to the news that Mr Bingley had proposed.
Celebrations flowed warmly and sincerely between the sisters.
It was wonderful to see Jane at peace at last. The little frown that had marred her handsome features of late was gone, her countenance returned to its natural serenity now that all her doubt was banished.
Mr Bingley, too, was the picture of contentment.
He beamed at Elizabeth when she took his hands and wished him all the joy in the world.
“I am sure to have it now, for not only shall I be blessed with the loveliest wife, but the best brother and sister, too.” He leant towards her slightly and said under his breath, “You and Darcy have been invaluable in your services to my happiness. I thank you for your words of encouragement and beg you would pass on my gratitude when you next write to him.”
Elizabeth assured him she would, and though she spent the rest of the day agreeing with her mother and sisters’ praise of all Bingley’s finest qualities, her private thoughts were dedicated entirely to Darcy.
That he had kept his word about speaking to Bingley when he had so much else on his mind showed a generosity of spirit that suffused her with pride and made her feel his absence ever more keenly.
* * *
Bingley’s sisters arrived in Hertfordshire less than forty-eight hours later.
Jane thought it a fine compliment that her future relations should come so soon to express their joy.
Elizabeth was not fooled into thinking they had come for any other purpose than to judge whether they could yet persuade their brother to change his mind.
It rendered her barely civil when they called at Longbourn.
“I hear congratulations are in order for you as well, Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley said. “How amazed we all were to hear of your engagement, after you left Derbyshire without even a farewell.”
“Thank you.”
“But now it is Mr Darcy’s turn to abandon you. How sad that he had to leave you so soon after you came to an understanding.”
Elizabeth gave no reply at all this time, but Miss Bingley would not be put off.
“Be assured, I know him to be honourable. Let me advise you, therefore, that you must not let it upset you that some people will question his commitment.”
“Very well, I shall not.”
Miss Bingley pursed her lips. “Although, nobody could blame you for being unsure of his regard. I should be most put out if my betrothed prioritised a house over me.”
How glad Elizabeth was that Miss Bingley had never succeeded in inveigling herself into Darcy’s affections, then!
It would have been tragic indeed had he ended up with a wife who understood so little what Pemberley meant to him.
She understood, and Darcy’s letter proved that he knew it.
It made her value more his insistence on her choosing the new housekeeper, for she supposed it was his way of asking her to share Pemberley’s custodianship.
Comprehending that only made her wish to be there more, instead of here at Longbourn, listening to Miss Bingley’s snide remarks and Mrs Bennet and Mrs Hurst’s debate on wedding dates.
“It cannot be before Michaelmas,” Mrs Hurst said in a vexed tone.
“Why not?” replied Mrs Bennet indignantly.
“Because that is next week!”
“Well? They can marry by licence.”
“I do not think there is any harm in waiting for the banns to be read,” said Miss Bingley. “There is no particular rush in this case, is there?”
Bingley took up Jane’s hand, smiling at her warmly. “I am not going anywhere, and I have nowhere I should rather be.”
“October then,” Mrs Bennet said impatiently.
“It cannot be October,” Mrs Hurst replied. “Mr Hurst and I will be in Northampton for most of next month.”
“Oh, well, November is a nice month for a wedding,” Mrs Bennet persisted. “Not too cold, not too close to Christmas.”
“Close to Christmas would be ever so romantic,” Kitty opined. “Especially if it snowed.”
Elizabeth could not fathom the serenity with which Jane was watching everybody talk her wedding into next year. She leant to whisper to her quietly. “You ought to say something if you wish to be married before you are old and grey.”
“I have no objection to fitting in with everyone else’s plans, Lizzy. There is no rush.”
Elizabeth straightened once more in her seat.
No rush? What were they waiting for? Did they hope to stumble across a more passionate attachment while they ambled their way towards the altar?
This gentle, unhurried affection bore no resemblance whatever to the ardent feelings that raged like a permanent storm in her heart.
Whether born of their particularly arduous passage to understanding or an extraordinary, natural affinity, her feelings for Darcy were more profoundly urgent than any sentiment she had experienced before, or any she could perceive in those around her.
She needed him—just as he needed her at Pemberley with him.
She excused herself, claiming a headache, and set herself up in private with a pen and ink.
Without thinking too much about what she would write, she addressed it to Darcy and then allowed her feelings for him, already overflowing, to spill onto the page.
First, an admission of her struggle to be reasonable when he said he must go home—that she had not wished to add a teary-eyed lady to his troubles, but that she had been one sob away from begging him not to go.
Next, a confession to not being troubled in the least by his aunt’s absurd visit, only by the difficulty of pretending for the second time that her heart was not breaking to say goodbye.
Then, that she could not think why she had ever let him leave without her.
That she wished he would come back for her, take her home with him to Pemberley, put an end to both their suffering, and make her his wife.
She dared not read it back to herself, lest that stole the courage required to send it.
She sealed it and begged her father to send it express, having entirely run out of patience for anything slower.