Chapter 5 #3
Bingley’s plans seemed to have suffered a change, because instead of his presence at dinner, Darcy received a note in his messy handwriting, explaining that Dawson and his friends insisted he must remain overnight.
Apologising for not being able to refuse them, Bingley promised he would return the next day after breakfast. Darcy met the information with an understanding smile and little surprise.
This was Bingley—incapable of resisting his friends’ insistence and always eager to be in the middle of any social gathering.
Darcy had dinner by himself, in the solitude of his chamber.
There was not much he could do, so he wrote to his sister Georgiana, to his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and to his uncle, Lord Matlock.
Then he attempted to read but his thoughts were still wandering.
The night was warm, quiet and calm just like the previous one, with the same bright sky.
He gazed through the window, trying to imagine what his mother had felt, there in that chamber, more than thirty years ago.
How had she spent her lonely nights? Who was the recipient of her musings and torment?
He had not had time to gather enough information, but from what Mrs Clarke had said, the families living nearby seemed decent, but simple people.
Could the painter—the author of the letters—be one of them?
Or perhaps someone who just visited them?
Might his quest meet with any success, or was it just another vain struggle?
Midnight came and went and Darcy still could not sleep. The chamber seemed too hot, the bed too soft, the silence too heavy. Without much consideration, he left the room, then the house, careful not to wake anyone.
Dressed only in his trousers and shirt, he walked through the garden towards the shore. Abandoning his shoes by the gate, he continued across the stones barefoot, closer and closer to the water, then plunged in.
The chill of the sea stirred all his senses and, as he began to swim further from the shore, his torment slowly diminished.
His body, fighting the water, moving towards the moon and leaving the shore behind, became lighter, the tension and pressure slowly disappearing, until he lost track of time and distance.
∞∞∞
The passing of the hours brought no more rest to Elizabeth either. The discussion with her aunt and sisters after dinner had mostly increased her nervousness. She was agitated without knowing the reason, restless and anxious—about everything and nothing in particular.
While Jane fell asleep, Elizabeth was not so lucky, turning over in bed from one side to another, threatening to disturb her sister. In her desperate quest for some peace, she tiptoed out of the room and then the house, hoping the fresh air would help her.
With her nightgown and robe on, her hair loose and free, she looked too improper for company, but she hoped a few minutes outside would not expose her to any indiscreet eyes.
She walked through the garden and sat down by the gate.
As she hoped, there was not a single soul around, everything was still and quiet.
As she stood there admiring the stunning moonlit view in front of her eyes, she noticed a man coming out from a house on her right.
He was too far away to see his face, but the moonlight allowed her to notice his improper attire and his hasty steps towards the water.
Instinctively, she moved even closer, hiding behind a bush.
She was not in any state to be seen, and she did not wish to disturb the man’s obvious need for privacy.
She watched him as he dived into the water, then swam further out with calm, steady strokes. Minutes passed, and he moved further and further away from the shore, until he disappeared from her sight.
Chills of worry made Elizabeth shiver and she abruptly stood up, trying to spot the stranger, but he seemed lost in the dark sea. Scared, she wondered what to do, how to act. Could the man be in danger? Should she call for help?
She ran towards the shore, her eyes searching the quietly lapping surface of the water. She could see nothing else but the sparkling of the stars on the foam.
Elizabeth’s heart pounded, while her head was spinning with helpless fear. Had she just witnessed a man losing his life, trapped by the deceptive calmness of the sea?
She had just decided to run back to the cottage and rouse someone when, with a last glimpse, she observed regular movements far away in the water. She stared at that point until she had no doubt that the swimmer was returning.
A sigh of relief allowed her to breathe again and her heart to beat more steadily.
A gentle wave touched her ankles and only then did she realise that she could not allow herself to be seen in such a situation, so she hurried back to the house.
She passed through the gate but remained hidden, just over the threshold, until the stranger came out of the water safely and disappeared into one of the nearby properties.
Hours later, in the comfort of her chamber, lying in the bed next to Jane, Elizabeth was still shivering, overwhelmed by an unreasonable distress.
She struggled to calm herself, repeating that she had witnessed nothing else but an unknown man taking a swim to cool himself on a warm night—probably a frequent happenstance in a seaside town.
But this voice of reason was not enough to dismiss her anxiety, and the sunrise found her tired and fretting, dizzy from too little sleep and too many emotions.