Chapter 10
As he and Carstens travelled towards London, Darcy was lost in thought. He had just been rejected by the only woman he believed he would ever love. But why?
Yes, he had done wrong with the insult she was not supposed to hear and in his disingenuous actions regarding Bingley and Miss Bennet, but in everything else, he was a gentleman, was he not? She had called him ungentlemanlike and that had stung badly.
Surely he was correct in the way he behaved.
Was it not right of him to consider the lady’s relative position to his own?
Before he lost his head and offered for Miss Elizabeth, he had been determined to follow what Father said.
He had been charged to make a brilliant match.
He was a Darcy of Pemberley so that is what was expected of him.
Now as he travelled away from Kent, Darcy began to wonder if Miss Elizabeth was worthy of being his wife.
His head said ‘no’, but his traitorous heart was screaming ‘yes’ drowning out his logical head.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Elizabeth did not know how she managed to reach the parsonage; she certainly did not remember walking back. The enormity of her misjudgements were weighing down on her head. No matter how she tried to see things in a better light, she could not.
After reading the letter on the log, Elizabeth had walked to the glade where she had read the whole of it again twice more. She had sat in reflexion afterward.
She was mortified at her words to Mr Darcy the previous evening, especially considering all her errors. Had she known then what she knew now, it would not have changed her reply, but she would have never vented her spleen at him.
Like Jane. Elizabeth would only marry for love, and she did not love Mr Darcy. Evidently, she did not know him at all.
She must have been away longer than she had realised because when she arrived back at the Parsonage, Charlotte, Mr Collins, and Maria were breaking their fasts. She sat down and the cook-housekeeper brought her a plate while Elizabeth poured tea for herself.
“Cousin Elizabeth, I am not pleased you are tardy for the meal. Lady Catherine demands punctuality,” Collins pontificated as he sprayed some half-masticated ham on the table in front of him.
“I beg your pardons, Charlotte and Mr Collins; I lost track of the time. It will not happen again,” Elizabeth responded.
Charlotte said nothing, but she was rather surprised that Eliza had not replied with some impertinence. She saw that her friend’s colour was heightened. She worried that Eliza may be ill. Perhaps her megrim the other day had been the harbinger of something more serious. Charlotte hoped not.
Before the meal ended, the maid entered and handed some post to the master. She bobbed a curtsy and left the dining parlour.
“This is for you, Cousin Elizabeth.” Collins slid the letter across to her.
“It is from Jane,” Elizabeth enthused. An epistle from her older sister immediately perked her up and gladdened her. “Charlotte, do you object to my reading this before I join you in your parlour?” she asked after finishing her meal.
“Of course not, Eliza. I know how much you enjoy Jane’s letters,” Charlotte allowed.
Mr Collins grunted something intelligible. He was busy eating his second or third plate of food, Elizabeth was not sure which. Elizabeth stood and curtsied. She made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber as quickly as she could.
Seeing her friend perk up as she had, Charlotte felt less concerned that Eliza was ill.
After closing the door, Elizabeth sat on her bed. The window was behind her which gave her as much light as she needed. She broke the Gardiner seal and smoothed the paper. The anticipation of reading Jane’s letter pushed Mr Darcy’s missive from her consciousness as she prepared to read.
29 March 1812
23 Gracechurch Street
London
Lizzy,
As much as I love you, I need to point out two proverbs by separate English writers. The first is from 1546 and is by John Heywood: There are none so blind as those who will not see. The second is by Matthew Henry from about 1690: There are none so deaf as those who will not hear.
Dearest, I wrote to you telling you I am no longer upset about Mr Bingley’s desertion, and I told you why I have reached that point. Rather than see and hear my words, you wrote back to me ignoring them as if you know my mind better than I do!
You will deny it, but Lizzy, you have the same improper pride and prejudices you accuse Mr Darcy of having.
And yes, this is me, Jane, writing to you. What occurred with the Bingleys and Hursts has helped me to allow the scales to fall from my eyes and see the world as it is, not as I want it to be.
You, Lizzy dearest, are so determined to paint Mr Darcy as the blackest of villains, that you refuse to consider anything which does not fit the conclusions you have drawn.
As I said in my last, even if everything you think about the pressure on Mr Bingley is true, it was his decision to listen to them and not come to see me and ask me about my feelings for him for himself. I want a man who puts me first, and Mr Bingley was not able to do that.
For the second time that morning, Elizabeth was reeling.
Was she really the stubborn mule Jane was describing?
Did she truly refuse to listen to others when what they were saying contradicted her beliefs and opinions?
That was when the realisation hit her. Her opinions were just that, not fact.
Further, she had treated her opinions as if they were absolute truths.
She shook her head and returned to the letter.
Now Lizzy, I have scolded you enough. Let me cheer you.
I am being courted! His name is Jamey Carrington, Lord Hadlock.
His parents are the Earl and Countess of Holder.
Before you ask, they were connected to Aunt Maddie and Uncle Edward before I met Jamey, so they have no complaints about my connections.
They have no improper pride, and I cannot wait until you are here to meet all the Carringtons. There are two sisters around Kitty’s and Lydia’s ages. One of them was the reason I met Jamey. More about that when I see you.
Where Mr Bingley is an irresolute boy, Jamey is a decisive man.
Please do not mention this to Mamma or Papa. You know how Papa would tease Mamma, and nothing would stop her coming to London to ‘help’ me.
When I see them, I will tell them in person.
By the by, before I accepted a courtship, I told Jamey all about our family, our connections, and lack of dowries.
I also related what had occurred with Mr Bingley and his family.
He cared not a whit about any of it, and his parents are of the same opinion.
Lizzy, I just know you will like them as I do.
I hope you take my remonstration to heart. If I did not love you as well as I do, I would not have said anything to you. Like I did, you need to open your eyes, Lizzy.
With all my sisterly love,
Jane
Elizabeth read the letter twice. She realised that what Jane said about her intransigence once she had taken a sketch of a person’s character was correct.
This was her day to read epistles which shook her confidence in her own judgements to the core.
It was as she had thought after reading Mr Darcy’s missive: she did not know herself.
She decided she needed to seek out Colonel Fitzwilliam, not because she disbelieved Mr Darcy, she did not; she needed to see him just because she needed to speak to someone familiar with the facts in his cousin’s letter.
She would be able to speak to Jane, but that was a few weeks away, and as sensible as Charlotte was, she could not confide in her, especially not with her husband who would trumpet anything he heard to his patroness and to anyone else he was able to tell.
Shame burned as Elizabeth considered how she had ignored Jane’s words and substituted her own opinions because of her obdurate way of holding onto her beliefs while ignoring evidence to the contrary.
The first thing she had to do before she went to seek out Colonel Fitzwilliam was to write to Jane to both congratulate her and beg her pardon.
She also realised there were some more epistles she needed to write.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
With her missives written, sealed, and the direction added, Elizabeth placed them on the tray with the rest of the outgoing post before joining Charlotte and Maria in the former’s parlour.
“You look much happier than you did in the dining parlour,” Charlotte commented. “Did my husband discompose you with his unnecessary censure?”
“Not at all. It is just that I have much to consider, and you found me rather contemplative,” Elizabeth responded.
She paused. “Charlotte, do I tend to jump to conclusions and then stubbornly cling to them?” At Charlotte’s raised eyebrows Elizabeth knew the reply without her friend saying the words.
As much as Charlotte enjoyed Eliza’s company, she never thought she would hear that particular question from her friend.
Something had happened. Whatever it was, Eliza was not in the mood to confide in her.
Knowing that one did not force a confidence from Eliza, Charlotte would wait until—if—her friend decided to confide in her.
She saw that her friend was looking at the door and still had her walking boots on. “Are you walking out again, Eliza?”
“Yes, indeed. I wanted to walk around the park. I have not really done so since arriving here,” Elizabeth returned. It was mostly true. She left out that she would be calling at Rosings Park. “I should not be too long.”
Elizabeth struck out across the park and tapped the letter in her pocket.
She knew that in order to receive answers to her questions, she would possibly have to allow Colonel Fitzwilliam to read the epistle.
As luck would have it, when she reached the mansion’s front doors, Colonel Fitzwilliam was heading towards the house from the direction of the stables.