Chapter 21
It was not until late in the evening that the carriage drew up before Longbourn.
The lamps were already lit; the household settled.
Elizabeth looked at her home with very mixed emotions.
She was weary and tired of long hours in the carriage, but she dreaded the shock and alarm that so strange and abrupt a return must cause.
The coachman descended at once and came to assist her.
As he had been at each stop along the way, the man was gentle and courteous, careful of her injured ankle.
As he handed her down, he spoke with concern.
“I am sorry, miss, that you should have been required to travel so suddenly. I hope the journey has not been too uncomfortable.”
“Much pleasanter than it might have been,” Elizabeth replied. “You have been very attentive.”
He bowed and extended his arm. After so wearying a day, Elizabeth’s ankle was aching, and she gratefully accepted the support. Never before had the path from the gate to the front door seemed so long.
Once there, Elizabeth took a deep breath and knocked on the door. After a long moment, Hill answered it.
“Miss Elizabeth!” Hill blurted out, her eyes wide with alarm. “How —”. Remembering herself, she took a deep breath and recovered her professional composure. “I mean to say, welcome home, miss.”
“Thank you, Hill.”
“I will show you where to bring the young lady’s trunk,” Hill went on, turning to the coachman.
He shook his head. “There is none. It will be sent on straightaway.” And with that, he bowed and turned to go. Elizabeth called her thanks after him, only moments before the carriage rattled away.
The poor man would be on the road late indeed if he travelled all the way back to Rosings that night. Elizabeth felt a rush of pity for the man who had been so kind to her, and realised only then that she had been too distraught to learn his name.
But Elizabeth could not spend more than a moment in self-reproach at her thoughtlessness before her mother came rushing into the hall with the rest of the family behind her. “My dear Lizzy, what can this mean? How did you come here at this hour? Where are your things? Where is Maria Lucas?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, feeling every eye on her. “I have come home a little sooner than I expected,” she said, striving for composure.
“A little sooner!” Kitty said. “Why, you were not to return for another fortnight. Has something happened?”
Elizabeth felt, too late, that she had made no preparation for these questions. The suddenness of her departure had left her in such a state of shock that she had not considered how it might be explained.
“Nothing of consequence,” she said. “Lady Catherine was so obliging as to send me in her carriage, as my ankle was not yet strong enough for the journey I had intended to take.”
Kitty looked at her with curiosity. “Lady Catherine sent you home? That is very odd.”
“It was very kind,” Elizabeth replied, and did not enlarge on it.
Mrs Bennet began at once to inquire into every particular, but Jane rose before she could proceed far and came toward Elizabeth.
“You are tired,” she said gently. “Mama, Lizzy cannot answer everything all at once. Come upstairs, and you shall tell us everything when you are more at ease.”
Mary followed at once. “It would be imprudent to fatigue yourself further with unnecessary conversation. Rest must be your first concern.”
Mrs Bennet hesitated, but allowed herself to be persuaded.
Jane took Elizabeth’s arm, and Mary walked beside them. Together they assisted her upstairs.
Elizabeth’s room had been prepared for her without delay. A fire had been lit, and the curtains drawn close against the night. Jane guided her to a chair and helped her to settle, while Mary placed a cushion beneath her foot with careful attention.
“You must not attempt to stand again this evening,” Jane said. “We shall see that everything is brought to you.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I am very well, I assure you. The journey has fatigued me less than I expected.”
“That may be,” Jane replied, “but you have done enough for one day.”
Mary nodded in agreement. “Regular rest is essential to recovery. You must be cautious not to undo what progress you have already made.”
“I shall endeavour to deserve your approval,” Elizabeth said.
Jane left the room for a few moments and soon returned with a tray. She placed it within Elizabeth’s reach and arranged it with quiet care. “You have had no proper supper,” she said. “You must take something now.”
Elizabeth thanked her and tried to eat, though she had no appetite. The familiar comfort of the room and of her sisters’ presence did more for her ease than anything else.
For a short time, no one spoke. Jane remained near her, attentive but not pressing her with questions, while Mary sat with composed patience, as if waiting for the proper moment to inquire.
It did not come immediately. Elizabeth knew she would have to tell them in the end. The circumstances were too sudden and too irregular not to explain. Yet she hardly knew how to explain what had happened, still less what she ought to say, and what she ought to conceal.
At length, Jane spoke. “Lizzy, you must tell us what has happened. Why have you come back a fortnight before we expected you?”
Elizabeth sighed. “I did not intend to return so soon,” she said at last. “And certainly not at night and without my trunk. I had every expectation of remaining at Hunsford for the time first agreed upon. Nothing had occurred to make me wish it otherwise.”
Jane’s brow creased in concern. “Then something must have happened,” she said gently.
Elizabeth inclined her head. “Yes. Something did.” She paused for a moment, struggling to think how she might explain events that remained astonishing even to herself.
“Lady Catherine came to the parsonage to speak with me, attended by Mr Collins, but she did not come as a visitor. She came to dismiss me. Perhaps I might better say, to banish me.”
“To banish you?” Jane repeated faintly. “Lizzy, what on earth can you mean?”
“She declared I was no longer welcome in the neighbourhood, and that I must leave it immediately. All my protests went unheeded. I told her that I was Mr Collin’s guest, not hers.
That gained me nothing. He only said that he would obey her will.
I told her I must have time at least to pack my trunk and arrange for my return with my uncle, but this too was denied.
I was put into Lady Catherine’s carriage at once, and told that my trunk would be packed and sent to me. ”
“This is everything shocking,” Mary said gravely. “I can hardly believe it of a noblewoman and a patron of the church. Why did Lady Catherine take so extraordinary a step?”
Elizabeth took a deep, steadying breath. “She accused me of — excuse me, I can hardly bear to say the word — of enticing Mr Darcy.”
Both her sisters gasped.
Elizabeth smiled crookedly. “I am sure I do not need to deny it to you, but naturally I immediately informed Lady Catherine I had done no such thing. She did not believe me, because she did not wish to believe me. She was determined to believe that I had drawn him in by design, and that it was necessary to remove me before the consequences became more serious.”
Jane shook her head. “It is most unjust. You could not have done anything to deserve such treatment.”
“I think not,” Elizabeth said. “But it was not a matter in which my opinion was of any consequence.”
“And Mr Collins?” Mary asked.
“He would not oppose her,” Elizabeth replied. “Our cousin had no thought of dignity, of his own rights as the master of the house, or of what he might owe to me as his cousin and his guest. He allowed Lady Catherine her own way in everything.”
Jane said nothing for a moment, but her concern was evident.
“And you were made to leave at once?”
“Yes. You can well judge the time Lady Catherine spoke to me, for it was before I returned home by the exact length of the journey between Kent and Hertfordshire.”
Jane looked at her with renewed concern. “How harshly you have been used.”
Elizabeth gave a small shrug. “It was not comfortable, but it is over.”
“It is past all understanding,” Mary said, shaking her head. “How could Lady Catherine possibly have thought such a thing? As your sister, I am most insulted by the slight to your character, but beyond this, to fear that Mr Darcy might marry you? How could Lady Catherine ever think it?”
Elizabeth did not answer.
“Lizzy?” Mary said hesitantly as the silence lengthened. “Lizzy, there is not some reason Lady Catherine would think Mr Darcy in love with you, is there?”
Jane reached for her hand. “Lizzy, you may tell us everything. There is nothing you need conceal from us.”
Elizabeth’s composure, which she had maintained with effort, gave way just enough to admit a greater honesty. “I do not wish to conceal it,” she said quietly. “I would only speak of it with some care.”
Her sisters waited. Jane wore her patience easily, and Mary less so, but both allowed her the space to speak in her own time.
Elizabeth drew a long breath. “I was so wrong about him,” she said.
“There is much that you do not know. That you could not know, because I did not tell you. I believed him proud, and disagreeable, and unjust. I was wrong. Mr Darcy has shown me a different character. One which I did not at first understand, but which I cannot now mistake.”
Elizabeth continued more steadily. “You do not know what he has done for us. It was Mr Darcy who first alerted me to the danger presented by Mr Wickham, and he shared a great secret with me to do so — a secret which I will not tell you even now. And more than this, when we had done our utmost to work against Mr Wickham and found it would not serve, it was Mr Darcy to whom I turned. I asked him for help, and he did so, though he did not have the slightest obligation. It is due to Mr Darcy that Mr Wickham can no longer prey on the people of Meryton. He has been attentive without presumption and considerate in ways that I did not expect. He has shown a regard for others which I had no reason to suppose him capable of. I have seen enough to convince me that my former judgement was not merely severe, but unjust.”
Jane pressed her hand. “I am very glad to hear you say so,” she said. Mary nodded earnestly.
“It is not only that.”
They waited, though now with visible impatience.
“I have come to admire him beyond any man I have ever known,” Elizabeth said. “I love him.”
Mary’s eyes were wide. “How tremendously romantic.” From a soul as serious as Mary, it was not entirely clear whether this was a recommendation or a concern for her, but Elizabeth chose to believe it was the former.
“It is,” Jane agreed softly. “I would not have believed it.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “Nor would I, until very lately.”
Jane hesitated. “And you believe—”
“That he feels it also?” Elizabeth said. “Yes. I do not say that he has declared it in so many words. But I cannot doubt the direction of his attentions, nor mistake the regard he has shown me. If I have understood him rightly, he will not be indifferent to what has passed.”
“And when he learns of this?” Jane asked.
Elizabeth’s expression did not waver. “He will come,” she said. There was no uncertainty in the answer.
If Elizabeth knew anything, she knew that. Though they had not said the words, Darcy loved her. He was not a Mr Collins, to be cowed into compliance by his aunt. Lady Catherine had only delayed their marriage, not prevented it.
It must not be long. Darcy had his own carriage; he was his own master. Likely not even a full day would pass before they were reunited.