Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Miss Darcy called to them from over her shoulder, “Oh do make haste, you two dawdlers. There should be refreshments awaiting us, and I am famished from all that exercise.”
“We are right behind you, hen.” Mr Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm and they followed his sister.
“Since our arrival in Wyman’s Cove, Georgiana is a different creature from the one she was in town.
As previously mentioned, she suffered a disappointment last summer, and it affected her greatly.
” He stopped short then, in both speech and forward momentum.
About to ask what had brought about such a change in Miss Darcy, Elizabeth looked up at the gentleman and supposed him to be deep in thought. Indeed, there was a long silence until finally he spoke but not as she might have expected.
“During our dance together at Netherfield, we talked briefly about Mr Wickham, and you insinuated he was suffering because of something I had caused.” Mr Darcy stared at the villa’s front door through which his sister had gone.
“Georgiana spent an entire year suffering because of him, and I shall never be able to forgive either Wickham or myself for that. I deeply regret not warning her about him years ago, and I was remiss in not telling you about the iniquity of that blackguard’s conduct before I left Hertfordshire.
I pray that nothing befell you or your sisters because of him. ”
The gentleman then looked at her with such an expression of contrition that Elizabeth immediately regretted what she said next.
“He was not the man who, in his wake, left wreckage at Longbourn. That dishonour belongs to the capricious Mr Bingley. And I admit to blaming his sisters and you for encouraging him to leave without warning and allowing such heartless abandonment of my elder sister to occur.”
To his credit, Mr Darcy patiently listened as Elizabeth spoke of Jane’s despondency, all the while governing her own vexation with great difficulty. In the end, he uttered words of repentance and of promises to write to his friend.
In turn, she heard him with earnest attention as he talked of his sister’s ordeal in Ramsgate and of its aftermath. When he had finished, while his words hung in the air, Elizabeth’s palm flew to her mouth, holding at bay either nausea or a sob, she knew not which.
A gloved hand gently touched her arm. “I apologise for causing you distress. I know Wickham was a favourite of yours.”
Dear God, I shall never be in charity with myself again for such blunders and blindness of both head and heart.
“No, Mr Darcy. Please do not console me for having been stupid and so terribly lacking in judgment, and please accept my abject apology for my behaviour during that dance at Netherfield. I am sickened and enraged on Miss Darcy’s behalf, and yours, and so terribly sorry that your dear sister suffered because of”—she could not bring herself to say the man’s name—“because of that miscreant’s heartlessness. ”
“Be assured that Georgiana was unharmed. Physically, that is.” At the grim look passing over Mr Darcy’s face, Elizabeth’s eyes immediately prickled with tears.
“Miss Bennet, I have complete faith in your discretion. Other than Wickham, my sister, my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself, you are the only one who knows of that incident.”
In that moment, almost all of Elizabeth’s unfounded prejudices against Mr Darcy vanished into the ether. “Perhaps, sir, you should not have such faith in me. You must acknowledge that I was not at all discerning where Mr Wickham is concerned.”
“In that, Miss Bennet, you were not alone.”
They walked to the house in silence and introspection, for there was much to be thought of and felt regarding those two gentle souls who had been hurt by two different scoundrels.
Elizabeth supposed that Mr Darcy’s heaviness of heart was far worse than her own, for he alone could have prevented much of the suffering by being frank with his innocent sister and mindful of Jane’s tender feelings.
In the vestibule they were met by Miss Wright, hands on hips and having changed into a yellow silk gown.
The sneer she directed towards Elizabeth quickly changed to a tight smile when she turned to the gentleman.
“Did you somehow manage to become lost, sir, while simply walking across an expanse of your own lawn?”
Mr Darcy removed his hat and gloves and instructed the footman to have the reclaimed topper cleaned.
To Miss Wright he said, “Indeed, Miss Bennet and I were lost. But by lost I mean in remembrance of an acquaintance we have in common. No one you would know.” He rubbed his palms together. “I hear there are refreshments.”
In Strandsmere’s sitting room, while the others gathered round a table with an array of tartlets, queen’s cakes with currants, and bowls of berries and early plums, Elizabeth glanced through the entries that had been written or drawn in her friendship book and came across a pretty picture signed by Hannah Wright.
What caught her attention, though, was a folded piece of paper tucked into the valley between the two pages.
Just as she was about to open it, Miss Wright herself sidled up, so she slipped the note into her gown’s pocket.
“A moment of your time, if you will, Miss Bennet.” Without further ado, Elizabeth’s arm was seized and entwined with Miss Wright’s, and she was guided to a window overlooking the Channel.
“This disclosure, while being a great source of pleasure for me, may be a disagreeable one for you to hear. But I can do naught but speak with candour.”
An ominous preamble, thought Elizabeth.
“Although, in company, not one syllable of its nature is ever breathed or alluded to, Mr Darcy and I—” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “We have a secret understanding.”
Reeling from that mighty blow, Elizabeth gasped and glanced at the gentleman, who was sitting with her album amicorum upon his lap and a pen in hand. I can scarcely believe it of Miss Wright, let alone Mr Darcy…of all people!
In light of the lady’s disclosure, Elizabeth was disgusted by his earlier provocatively inviting behaviour. Turning her back on him and putting a hand to her chest, she felt as though her heart had shrunk.
Forefinger against her lips, Miss Wright demanded Elizabeth’s silence. “At present,” she whispered, “only he and I are aware of this arrangement. Therefore, you must solemnly promise to not drop a hint of it to anyone.”
Weighed down by what Miss Wright had divulged and by a cold, heavy, sick feeling in her stomach, Elizabeth remained speechless, merely nodding as the woman continued.
“I never had the convenient talent of affecting emotions foreign to my heart. Therefore, I trust you will believe me when I say that I feel deeply sorry for you.” If Miss Wright’s tone was meant to be soothing, it was not doing its job.
“I know that you have designs on my dear Mr Darcy, so I thought it would be a kindness to enlighten you about the impossibility of your securing the affections of such a gentleman. Of course, he always was meant to marry a lady from his own station. It is all about connexions, Miss Bennet.”
A cool, foggy se’nnight had passed since Elizabeth had first learnt of Mr Darcy’s clandestine engagement, and she completely understood what Miss Hughes, upon arrival at Wyman’s Cove, had meant about greyness perfectly echoing the way she felt.
Knowing that her experience was not nearly as severe as the young orphan’s grief and longing, Elizabeth acknowledged that it was, nevertheless, sorrow and yearning. And, like her friend, she would endure until it no longer hurt so badly and until only fond memories remained.
In the meantime, being in the company of friends—the Bakers, Miss Hughes, Miss Darcy, and Miss Althea—would help.
No one should grieve alone and, after all, friendship was the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.
Yes, she would spend more time with others and less with a man unlikely to ever be her own.
But I thought Mr Darcy had always been honest with me, brutally so, in fact.
I was, after all, not handsome enough for him.
And he once said my defect was to wilfully misunderstand.
But surely I did not misconstrue everything we shared last week when he listened to me and acknowledged my outraged feelings regarding Mr Bingley’s treatment of Jane.
Elizabeth could not comprehend why, after that tête-à-tête concerning their two dearest sisters, he could not have been honest with her about an understanding with another lady or why he could not have been mindful of her poor heart.
Although Miss Hughes had offered to stay at Cliff House with her, Elizabeth insisted that her friend not change any plans on her account. “’Tis naught but a trifling headache. Go, and give my regrets to everyone at Strandsmere.” I am not ready to face him.
So, while Miss Hughes enjoyed daylight hours with her new friends, Elizabeth took solitary walks in the mist, chatted with Miss Baker and her brother in the sitting room, or spent time alone in her bedchamber trying to read but mostly trying to understand the ways of men.
During their time together in Somerset, her sentiments towards Mr Darcy had gradually become all that was respectful, confiding, and warm.
But, possessed and controlled by a misleading notion of mutual admiration, her thoughts, her infatuation, and her conduct had been naught but folly.
What she had assumed was a growing attachment must have been nothing more than amorous trifling on his part, not dissimilar to Mr Bingley’s behaviour towards Jane or to Mr Wickham’s unscrupulousness and his victim’s unsuspecting nature.