Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Elizabeth and Jane stayed in Gracechurch Street for a little more than a se’nnight before returning to Longbourn a few days before Christmas with their aunt and three young cousins. Mr Bingley and a widowed aunt of his also accompanied them in their own carriage. Miss Bingley seemed to have had enough of the Bennets and Meryton, for she and the Hursts did not accompany their brother. Although the ever-diplomatic Mr Bingley blamed Mr Hurst’s gout for their absence, Elizabeth had her own ideas about the true reason. Mr Gardiner also could not come with them due to business exigencies; he was to follow them on the day before Christmas and two days before the wedding. Georgiana had informed Elizabeth that she, Mr Darcy, and his best man Colonel Fitzwilliam, would all be reaching Netherfield Park on the same day.
Elizabeth gazed out of the window as the Gardiners’ carriage steadily made its way to Longbourn. We will be home in less than half an hour, she thought as she absentmindedly listened to the chatter of her cousins Thomas and Sam while her aunt dozed next to her. Little Rose had chosen to ride in Mr Bingley’s carriage with her favourite cousin Jane.
From her conversations with Georgiana, Elizabeth knew that Mr Darcy was on his way to London at this very moment and, depending on the weather and the road conditions, would most likely reach the metropolis either today or tomorrow. It was not until she felt a pang of disappointment when she noticed that the carriage that had just passed theirs in the opposite direction had no identifying crest that she realised that she had been looking for the Darcy crest in every carriage that went past theirs in the direction of the metropolis. She was disappointed because it was now certain that they would not be seeing his carriage today.
How… how could I behave like such a ninny? she chastised herself. I knew that the odds of his passing through this stretch at the same time as we were one in a million. And what would I have done if he had driven past us? It is not like I would have got a glimpse of him…
Elizabeth was flustered as she realised that she had missed Mr Darcy and was looking forward to seeing him again. She was even looking forward to… her wedding—a wedding that had been forced on them both less than a month ago and to her astonishment, save for an apprehension about the reaction of the ton and Mr Darcy’s relatives, she was very much reconciled with her lot in life. Mr Darcy’s kindness and now Georgiana’s friendship were giving her the courage to embrace the upheaval in her life with equanimity.
If I am honest with myself, the wedding no longer feels like an upheaval. She felt a frisson of unease pass through her at the realisation. Am I setting myself up for hurt by trusting Mr Darcy too much too soon? She wondered as she leaned back and rested her head on the headrest. Her left hand fisted on its own accord, and her ring dug into her palm as a result. The ring reminded her of the words he had said while giving it to her and she let out a sigh as a sense of calm stole over her.
“That was a very deep sigh. Is anything the matter, my dear?”
Elizabeth hurriedly turned to look at her aunt. Mrs Gardiner was now awake and was looking back at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Nothing is the matter, dear Aunt Madeline. It is just that I am feeling a little fatigued after all the running around last week.”
Her aunt gave her a searching look, then nodded. “Hmm.… That is understandable, I suppose.”
To Elizabeth’s relief, their carriage entered the Longbourn gates just then, and her aunt was distracted from any further questioning.
∞∞∞
Half an hour later all the Bennet ladies and Mrs Gardiner were in Mrs Bennet’s parlour. Mr Bennet had escaped to his study soon after welcoming the arrivals. The children had been settled in the nursery and Mr Bingley and his aunt had left for Netherfield.
“Oh, Madeline, it is such a relief that you and Jane are finally here. I could really do with some assistance with the preparations. The Lord knows, I have had little of it in the last ten days,” Mrs Bennet complained unfairly. In stark contrast to his usual indolence, her husband had readily taken over complete responsibility for the arrangements for the wedding breakfast. Mary, who usually disliked going to the haberdashery or the milliner’s, gladly accompanied her mother to select accessories like bonnets, gloves, and the like that could be purchased even in Elizabeth’s absence.
“Please do not worry about a thing, Fanny. I have come early only for being a source of support for you. It is no wonder that you are feeling somewhat put upon after the very short notice Mr Darcy gave you before the wedding,” Mrs Gardiner said soothingly, then added for good measure, “But I am sure you would have managed very well even without anyone’s help.”
Aunt Gardiner really knows how to get Mama to calm down, Elizabeth thought wryly even as she saw her mother preen.
“One does what one has to, Madeline, and I am sure I never complain how much ever put upon I feel.” Thankfully, Hill brought in tea before Mrs Bennet could get any more eloquent.
“Jane, Lizzy, the most interesting thing happened while you were in London!” Kitty took advantage of the lull in the conversation when everyone applied themselves to the refreshments.
“What has happened, Kitty?” Jane asked kindly when she noticed Kitty’s eagerness to impart whatever secret she possessed. Elizabeth was mildly surprised that it was Kitty and not Lydia who was so eager to share the gossip.
“Oh, it is the most juicy bit of gossip.” Kitty smiled.
“Have you forgotten so soon how harmful and hurtful rumour mongering can be?” Elizabeth asked angrily. Her outburst was followed by an awkward silence which was finally broken by Lydia.
“It is not rumour mongering when Mary King herself confessed the secret to me and Maria,” the youngest Bennet said with an angry twist to her lips.
“Oh! Is it about her inheritance?” Jane asked after a wary glance at Elizabeth.
“Umm… no, that is old news, Jane. I am speaking about what has happened since then.”
“And what exactly has happened?” Elizabeth asked.
“Well, Mary King is betrothed to Lieutenant Wickham. Although nothing has been officially announced yet, Mary said that he asked, and she accepted. Is that not romantic?” Kitty asked as she literally bounced in her seat.
“Very,” Elizabeth replied sardonically, marvelling at the speed with which the good lieutenant had acted. Had he shown even a tiny bit of interest in Mary King before her inheritance was revealed or if he had waited a decent interval to actually woo the girl, Elizabeth might have excused his behaviour as pragmatism. Men with little means also had the right to survive perhaps, but the unseemly haste with which he had got betrothed, that too in secret, indicated that he was a conscienceless opportunist at best and an out and out scoundrel at worst.
“Mary King is a very fortunate girl! First, she is left a substantial inheritance, and then she goes and gets betrothed to such a handsome redcoat.” Mrs Bennet joined the conversation with this profound observation.
Elizabeth was puzzled when she noticed Lydia scowl at Mama’s words. Strange, I thought she rather liked Mr Wickham in his red coat… perhaps even she has realised that he is an opportunistic dissembler. Elizabeth came to the rather erroneous conclusion.
“Well, that is neither here nor there. Lizzy, I want to see your wedding gown, come, let us go to your room,” Mrs Bennet changed the subject and the party in the parlour then shifted to Elizabeth’s bed chamber.
∞∞∞
“Lizzy, all your gowns and dresses are very pretty, but I adore your wedding gown!” Kitty exclaimed as she admired the beautiful concoction in ivory coloured silk, its bodice and the puff sleeves embellished with tiny pearls.
“It is very good no doubt, but it does not have enough lace that an ideal wedding dress should have,” Mrs Bennet said doubtfully.
“Fanny, you know that Lizzy has never been very comfortable with too much lace. Would you want her incommoded on her own wedding day?” Mrs Gardiner asked her sister, raising a finely arched brow.
As she gazed into Mrs Gardiner’s questioning eyes, Mrs Bennet found herself oddly reluctant to reveal that she had not really been thinking of Lizzy’s comfort or her choices. “Erm…” she stuttered a little.
Gentling the blow Mrs Gardiner continued, “But if I have not missed my guess, very soon you will be commissioning another wedding gown, Fanny, and you can fulfil your desire at that time,” she added, with a knowing smile towards Jane. She did not feel guilty for using Jane for distracting her sister. From what she had been observing of her eldest niece and Mr Bingley, she was sure that their marriage was a matter of when, and not if. As expected, Mrs Bennet was immediately distracted and started expanding on her hopes for her dear Jane.
Elizabeth was grateful to her aunt for coming to her rescue. While everyone was still admiring her trousseau, Mr Bennet summoned her to his study.
∞∞∞
“You called me, Papa?” Elizabeth asked after knocking and opening the door of the study.
“Yes, my dear, please come in.”
When Elizabeth stood in front of him, he opened a drawer in his table and drew out a letter.
“Here, this is for you.” Mr Bennet extended it towards her.
“What is it… oh!” Elizabeth stopped abruptly when she read the address of the sender. She could not understand why her heart should suddenly start beating so much faster.
“Yes, your Mr Darcy has sent a letter for you.” Mr Bennet smiled.
“So it would seem.” Elizabeth nodded in agreement, trying to appear nonchalant but failing miserably if she but knew it.
Her father smiled at her bent head as she carefully folded the letter and kept it in the pocket of her gown and his grin widened as his daughter hurriedly took her leave without waiting for her customary chat with him after any visit away from Longbourn. His smile dropped for a moment as the door closed behind his favourite daughter. “Lizzy will be gone from Longbourn in less than a se’nnight,” he whispered, his heart aching. Then with a deep sigh he forced himself to shake away his melancholy with a prayer for Elizabeth’s happiness.
∞∞∞
Mr Darcy will be here in a few days, so why has he sent a letter now? Has something happened? Elizabeth wondered uneasily as she walked away from her father’s study. “Oh, stop acting so missish, Lizzy! Georgiana received a letter from him only a few days ago. What could have happened in another day or two?” she mumbled, forcing herself to remember that she was a sensible young woman who did not see shadows where none existed.
Feeling eager to discover the contents of the letter, she entered her chamber, only to find everyone still present there, busily discussing various items of her trousseau. I will have to wait until I can have some solitude, she sighed, forcing herself to be patient. Unfortunately for her, solitude was one commodity that she did not enjoy until she retired to her room for the night. That day she had first-hand experience of what someone might have undergone when they coined the phrase ‘burning a hole in the pocket’!
∞∞∞
December 10, 1811
The Swan, Watford.
Elizabeth,
Elizabeth traced her name with a gentle finger, staring at the letters for a long moment. His writing was… bold and strong, incisive, and beautiful… exactly like the man who wrote it. And in his handwriting, even her name felt like a caress.
“Oh Lord, get a hold on yourself, Lizzy! You are mooning over a letter whose contents even you do not know!” she muttered aloud with a groan.
Feeling frustrated with herself for behaving like a simpering ingénue, she put her head on the headrest and closed her eyes. What is happening to me? she asked herself.
Your heart is getting engaged with him… perhaps too much and too quickly? The response came unbidden and made her open her eyes in panic.
Oh… I must be careful. His kindness has made me forget that he is the same man who finds my looks barely tolerable and would never have offered for me if fate had not intervened. If I allow emotions to overpower my sense… then… it would be unfair to him and detrimental to my peace of mind.
∞∞∞
She might not have felt so apprehensive to open her heart had she but known the turmoil Darcy had gone through while penning the letter she held in her hands. The man had wasted two sheets of paper only to decide on a salutation for the letter. ‘My darling Elizabeth’ on the first sheet had been modified to ‘My Elizabeth’ on the second. After carefully folding both the sheets and placing them in his writing case, he had finally settled on only her name, and he had intended it as a caress indeed.
Just like hers, a complex thought process assisted him in coming to this conclusion. But then, except for a few fortunate souls, lovers, since time immemorial, are known to overthink, overanalyse, and be altogether stupid when it comes to matters concerning the one they love, and Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley was no exception.
When he began his letter to Elizabeth, he felt that a sudden revelation of his true feelings could harm the nascent bond of trust that had started developing between them. Especially when she was under the misapprehension that he was as indifferent to her as she was to him. He found it ironic that his intemperate words while insulting her were now forcing him to temper his words when loving her. Patience was to be his penance. He changed the salutation in order to hide his feelings, then promptly proceeded to reveal them through every word of the letter save the salutation.
∞∞∞
After a few moments of giving herself a bracing talk, Elizabeth re-opened the letter, determined to read it without any further foolishness.
December 10, 1811
The Swan, Watford.
Elizabeth,
I hope you, Miss Bennet, and Bingley have safely arrived in London by now. While I would not like to speculate how Bingley is faring at this moment, I am very sure that you both are having a wonderful time with your aunt and uncle.
I am having a safe if rather monotonous journey, and at present I am ensconced in The Swan for the night. This evening, I had a profound experience that I wanted so much to share with you. Since the only way I can do so at the moment is to put everything down on paper, I thought of sharing it with you through this missive.
While I was partaking of supper in one of the inn’s private parlours, the landlord came in to inform me that an acquaintance of mine, Lord Seymour, wanted an urgent word. Since Seymour was at Cambridge with me and is generally thought to be a good sort of chap, I promptly agreed to meet him. It turned out that he was looking for a private parlour for his party. Unfortunately, both the private parlours of the inn were already occupied. When he learned that I was the sole occupant of one of them, he decided to ask me for a favour. To cut a long story short, Elizabeth, I soon found myself being presented to five guests for dinner.
One of them was a tall and stout woman in her late fifties. For some reason, she appeared familiar. Even as I was trying to figure out where I had seen her before, Seymour introduced her as… hold your breath Elizabeth… Mrs Siddons—Sara Siddons! The great artist who I had last seen performing Hamlet when I was still at Cambridge. As I was exchanging pleasantries with her, I kept thinking of you. Do not ask me how I know this, but I somehow felt sure that you would have loved meeting her. Perhaps what I observed about your taste in literature while at Netherfield is the reason behind this belief.
Although it was a pleasure to meet her, I was also saddened to observe how the ravages of age and health seem to have taken their toll on such a great artist. But, shortly after supper, she proved that neither age nor health had diminished her not inconsiderable talent.
Someone from Seymour’s party pressed her to perform for us after supper. While I would never presume to encroach on an artist’s personal time in such a manner, I have to confess that I was rather glad when Mrs Siddons graciously agreed to oblige us. To my surprise and dare I say, delight, she chose to enact Portia’s lines from the courtroom scene instead of her more acclaimed roles in Hamlet or Macbeth. I am not sure I could adequately convey my wonder at witnessing a woman approaching her sixtieth year transform herself into a passionate young girl defending her lover in a matter of moments. Needless to say, we were all left spellbound, and the applause at the end was thunderous. I never imagined five ostensibly civilised people, and I am including myself among them, could create such a racket. Perhaps it was the confined space of the parlour that was the culprit.
I hope I have not made your already low opinion of me any lower by confessing that I am shallow enough to prefer watching something that leaves me with a smile and the happy thought that good triumphs over evil! Once we are in London, I look forward to taking you to see some of my favourite plays, and in return, I will be eagerly waiting for you to take me to some of yours.
I wish you pleasant dreams and a successful shopping experience tomorrow. I know my good wishes would not reach you in time, but I wish you to know that they always remain with you in whatever endeavour you undertake,
Fitzwilliam Darcy.
December 12, 1811
Pemberley,
I arrived safely in Pemberley. Tomorrow my steward has scheduled a meeting with the owner of the estate I am desirous of purchasing. The Meadow Farm (if you like you can start thinking of a suitable name to replace this highly creative one) fell vacant earlier this year when its widowed owner died childless. The new heir was ultimately located somewhere in the Americas, and he has no desire to relocate from there. He has come to England to sell the property, and I am making a bid for the same because one never knows when a new estate, that is not part of the Darcy inheritance, can come in handy. Wish us luck.
I have informed Mrs Reynolds about our impending nuptials, and I believe I am not exaggerating when I say that she is over the moon and has got busy readying the house for its new mistress. She has also entrusted me with the responsibility of conveying her good wishes to you.
With the hope that you and Georgiana have been able to arrange a meeting and that your shopping continues successfully,
FD
December 14, 1811
Pemberley,
Congratulations Elizabeth, pending formalities The Meadow Farm now belongs to us.
F
December 15, 1811
Pemberley,
Today, Mrs Reynolds was enquiring about the requirement of a lady’s maid for you. I have told her that it would, of course, be your decision, and you would decide once you arrive at Darcy House. However, I have been thinking. You are very welcome if you would like your own lady’s maid from Longbourn to come with you. I can assure you that as you come into our lives, Georgiana and I will do our best to ensure that you do not miss your family, at least not very much. But I know from personal experience that when one moves away from all that is familiar, even one known face may make a significant difference to one’s comfort. I think I would not admit it to anyone but you, but when I went to Cambridge, it was my valet, Banes, who accompanied me and brought a sense of home to a place far away from home, and this despite the fact that I had been away at school since I was thirteen.
I also went into the mistress’s chamber in Pemberley, a room that I have rarely visited since my mother passed away. Some of my most pleasant memories are associated with that room, as my mother dearly loved to laugh and make others laugh as well. But today I tried to put myself in your shoes and look at it through your eyes. It still remains a pleasant room, if a trifle old-fashioned. You are very welcome to get it changed as per your tastes. Unfortunately, I do not know enough of yours to assist you.
I will be leaving for London the day after tomorrow and aim to arrive by the 21st of December. Georgie, my cousin Richard, and I would then be travelling to Netherfield on the 24th. With the hope of seeing you the same day,
F.
PS -
Oh, I almost forgot. I received a letter from Georgie today and learned how welcome you made her feel and how enamoured she is of her new sister to be. She also raved about accompanying you on your next shopping trip. I am quite disturbed to discover that I have a petty streak in me that is not allowing me to close this letter without writing, ‘I told you so.’
F.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth found herself grinning foolishly as she folded the sheets after reading the letter, then immediately unfolded them to re-read the letter. That night she went to sleep with the foolish smile still playing on her lips.