Chapter 8
During the night, Elizabeth slept little and poorly, and, in the morning, her resolution was made. At breakfast, Mr. Collins resumed his whining, and collecting herself, she addressed her companions with quiet determination.
“There is something I must tell you, and I hope you will understand. After the letter I received from Jane, I would like to return to London sooner than planned, to be with my sister and relatives. Maria may join me, of course. I shall write to my uncle to send us his carriage.”
Charlotte readily expressed her disappointment, but Mr. Collins’s answer surprised her greatly.
“My dear cousin, whilst we shall miss your pleasant company, I cannot but support whatever you decide.
If you wish to return to London, I understand.
But there is no need to bother Mr. Gardiner for his carriage.
I shall be happy to take you and my sister Maria there myself.
I shall tell Dawson to hire a carriage for tomorrow morning.
All three women stared at him in disbelief; the reason behind his amiability was easy to guess, and Charlotte tried to oppose him, but Mr. Collins would not have it.
“My dear Charlotte,” he said with great solemnity, “you should be happy that your husband is so considerate as to escort your sister and your friend, with no regard for his own comfort. My only wish is to be sure they arrive in London safely. Now, excuse me, I must make the arrangements.”
Elizabeth feared there might be some unpleasant consequences to such a plan, but in the end, it was nothing that might affect her. She would be in Gracechurch Street, and whatever foolishness Mr. Collins indulged in, it would happen in a different part of London.
Preparations were made in haste, and the following day, early in the morning, Elizabeth took her leave of Hunsford. The farewell with Charlotte was brief yet heartfelt, filled with promises of future correspondence and the quiet understanding that had long bound them.
On the road, Mr. Collins spoke tirelessly, frustrating and exhausting Elizabeth at the same time, and she was relieved when the carriage drew up before the Gardiners’ house.
Elizabeth was received with surprise and welcomed with open arms by her aunt, uncle, and cousins, and with the sweetest affection by her dearest Jane, whose countenance already glowed with renewed hope.
As she embraced her sister, Elizabeth’s thoughts turned once more to the gentleman whose letter and intervention had set these happy events in motion.
Her heart was divided between gratitude and that softer, more disquieting flutter she still refused to name, though she wondered if and when she would see him again.
***
Elizabeth had been five days in London, comfortably settled within the cheerful walls of Gracechurch Street, before the quiet rhythm of her days began to reveal the true state of her heart.
Maria Lucas had been taken home to Meryton by her father, Sir William, whose delight in his daughter’s tales from Kent could scarcely be contained.
Elizabeth and Jane had begged their parents’ permission to remain a little longer in town.
The news of Jane’s reunion with Mr. Bingley had so transported Mrs. Bennet that her reply overflowed with unreserved approval: the girls might stay in London for as long as they pleased, provided they did not neglect to secure advantageous connections.
Mr. Bennet’s answer had been characteristically brief — You may do as your mother said — and thus the matter was settled with ease.
“Dearest Lizzy, I am so happy to have you back,” Jane told her several times.
“I am happy to be back, dearest. But I dare say your happiness has other causes too.”
“I cannot deny that… You know, Lizzy, at first I was afraid to even speak of it, or to entertain any hopes… But now… Mr. Bingley calls so often …”
“Twice already since I arrived,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “What a pleasure it was to see him again, so happy to see me,” she jested.
“Oh, Mr. Bingley speaks of you all the time, Lizzy! He is so attentive, so courteous…even more than last autumn. And it feels easier to speak to him and to share things. He apologised for not returning to Netherfield and expressed his regret for not knowing I was in town. But how could he have known? I still wonder how it was possible that his sister concealed my presence for so many months.”
“It was possible because they are as unkind and deceptive as I told you almost from the beginning. Do you remember when they implied Mr. Bingley was in a close relationship with Miss Darcy?”
“Of course I remember…”
Well, I happen to know from a most reliable source that was not true. Perhaps you should tell Mr. Bingley as well as Mr. Darcy about this lie.”
“Oh no, Lizzy! You cannot do that, I beg you! Mr. Bingley is already angry with them, I believe. As for Mr. Darcy — dear Lord, I would be mortified if he knew that!”
“Do not fret, Jane. I was mostly joking. I would not dare bring up such a subject to Mr. Darcy either.”
“I am so grateful to him, Lizzy, for informing Mr. Bingley about my presence in London. Why did he do so? Regardless, I hope I shall have the chance to thank him.”
“That would be lovely, indeed,” Elizabeth whispered, mostly to herself.
“He must be very busy, as Mr. Bingley said,” Jane added.
“Mr. Darcy is a man with many responsibilities, and he must have little time to spare. Especially now, with the distressing situation of Miss de Bourgh. I still pray for a chance to thank him in person, though Mr. Bingley insisted there is no need.”
Elizabeth prayed for a chance to thank Mr. Darcy too.
But the chances of meeting him seemed slim.
He must know she was in town. Or perhaps not?
Did he have time to even think about her?
He must be busy with all the scandals caused by Lady Catherine.
Was she still in town? Had Miss de Bourgh fully recovered?
What about Mr. Collins? So many questions which might be answered if she dared to address them.
Her thoughts returned to Mr. Darcy many times every day, recollections mingled with hopes, sadness with joy. She was tempted to ask Mr. Bingley for Mr. Darcy’s direction and take a carriage ride to Mayfair… Of course, it would be a silly gesture, but it was tempting nevertheless.
“I wonder whether Mr. Collins is still in London,” Elizabeth pondered aloud while the two sisters took tea with their aunt.
“Mr. Collins must be home now — if he has any sense or wit,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Where would he stay in London? Why not call on us?”
“His reason for being in London was Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth answered, “so if he is still here, he must be spending his time with her somewhere. His obsession would be amusing and laughable if it were not sad and disturbing.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “From what you told me, I cannot but pity Charlotte, even though she has found herself a comfortable household. As much patience as she might have, with such a husband, life must be rather miserable.”
“There is no sadder thing than to be married to a man you cannot love and respect, and no greater joy than to spend your life with the man suited to you,” Jane whispered, her eyes full of tears.
Mrs. Gardiner caressed her hand in approval, but the sweet, truthful words caused a tightness in Elizabeth’s chest.
There is no greater regret than to refuse a man who might have been well suited to you, she mused in silence, her thoughts reviving her old turmoil.
Did she truly believe Mr. Darcy was suited to her?
It had been less than a fortnight since her harsh refusal.
Had she lost her mind? Or had she finally regained it?
“I have every reason to think ill of you,” she had recklessly told Mr. Darcy, moments after he had professed his ardent love to her. Now, she had every reason to think highly of him, but most likely to no avail.
As kind and polite as he had been to her after he handed her the letter, imagining he might consider proposing to her again was preposterous.
No man would do that, not after the manner of her refusal.
Even if his feelings for her were preserved despite her rejection and accusations, his vanity and pride would rightfully not allow him to speak those words again.
Jane had just regained her chance at happiness; had she, Elizabeth, lost hers?
That very day, Mr. Bingley called again, joyful, a large smile beaming on his handsome face. With every visit, Mr. Bingley appeared more at ease with the family and more assured in Jane’s gentle company.
“I just happened upon Darcy on my way here!” Mr. Bingley exclaimed. “He was with a gentleman called Mr. Rease. I told them I was on my way to visit you, and Darcy asked me to convey his best wishes.”
“Did he? How kind of him,” Elizabeth managed to reply, wondering whether her cheeks were as crimson as they felt.
Her heart began to race even faster when Mr. Bingley added, “Darcy expressed his intention of calling on you, too, one of these days, if that is agreeable to you.”
“Agreeable? We would be truly honoured,” Mrs. Gardiner immediately answered.
“We would be delighted to see Mr. Darcy again,” Elizabeth added.
“Dr Rease sent you warm greetings, too, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Thank you, sir. That is delightful news indeed,” she replied in all honesty.
“Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Gardiner said a little while later, “would you do us the honour of joining us for dinner the day after tomorrow?”
“Dinner? Yes, of course! I would be very happy to. Thank you!”
“Excellent. Of course, we would be pleased to have your sisters too, if they wish to attend.”
Mr. Bingley’s countenance darkened.
“I must confess I have no intention of extending the invitation to them. We are not on the friendliest of terms at present. I am not ignorant of the fact that they visited you and chose not to inform me. I take this as an offence against you, Miss Bennet, and also myself, and it will take some time before they gain my forgiveness.”
He looked truly upset, and Elizabeth felt a sense of deep satisfaction. Mr. Bingley was acting exactly as she had hoped.
Mr. Bingley’s visit lasted longer than usual, and afterwards, Elizabeth’s thoughts returned to Mr. Darcy. He had sent her his greetings and expressed his intention to call. Could she hope for more? Did she deserve more consideration? Surely not.
Her eagerness increased as time passed and turned into impatience. She often found herself gazing through the window, startled by the sound of every carriage and knock on the door. Hours passed too slowly when one was waiting, and disappointment quickly crept in.
The appointed dinner arrived, awaited by Jane with great anticipation. The table was laid with care, the candles glowed warmly, and the family awaited their guest with cheerful expectation.
Mr. Bingley was announced a little earlier than the hour named, his countenance alight with good humour, yet to the astonishment of all, he was not alone. Beside him stood Mr. Darcy, tall and composed, his dark eyes sweeping the room with that familiar reserve until they met Elizabeth’s.
For a moment, the drawing-room seemed to hold its breath. Elizabeth’s pulse quickened in a most inconvenient manner; she was at once nervous and happy, a curious tumult of feelings that left her cheeks warm and her thoughts in disarray. He had come!
“Mr. Darcy!” she said, while he bowed properly.
“Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. Gardiner, allow me to introduce my friend Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bingley said.
“We are honoured to meet you sir. Welcome to our home,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “We cannot say how delighted we are to have you.”
Mr. Darcy greeted each of them, his eyes lingering upon Elizabeth a moment longer than the rest.
“I hope I do not intrude,” he said. “I met Bingley, and he told me he would join you for dinner. I took the opportunity to come and introduce myself, and I shall leave you to enjoy your party.”
“You certainly do not intrude, sir,” Elizabeth said, glancing at her uncle and aunt. “You probably have other engagements, or we would gladly insist you join us for the evening.”
He paused a moment, somehow confused, looked at the Gardiners and said, “I have no other engagements.”
Elizabeth sighed, relieved, fearful to even express her joy.
“Excellent!” Mr. Gardiner interjected. “Truly wonderful! Please come in, gentlemen. What a wonderful evening for our family! Please allow me to offer you both a drink.”
Mr. Darcy glanced at Elizabeth again, then followed his host. Their eyes met for an instant, and in that brief exchange of glances lay all the memories of Kent — the grove, their confessions, the tentative accord that had begun to bloom between them.
She wondered whether he felt the same disquieting flutter, the same unspoken question that lingered in the air.
As the party moved towards the dining-room, Elizabeth found herself both eager and apprehensive for what the evening might reveal. The road from Kent had brought her to London, and Mr. Darcy’s presence had followed her heart all the way.