January 1810 #2
“That I do not remember. I believe Miss Asbury was a relative on his mother’s side, perhaps even an aunt, but as I understand it, his mother had died before his marriage to my sister, and I know of no other relatives on that side.”
“I see. Thank you, Uncle.”
Elizabeth did not see. She soon went to bed, pleading a megrim.
Attempting to sort out her roots had only tangled them more completely.
Had Uncle Bennet lied about her father being Mr. Asbury?
Was it possible even he did not know the gentleman’s name?
Was she really in the same position as those foundlings?
No, she was not. She knew her mother’s family.
Once again, the only name she could rely on was Bennet.
She was Elizabeth Bennet, or she was no one.
She must accept that as truth. Family was about love, not blood, after all.
Another evidence of this truth came when Mary wrote to wish Elizabeth joy on her eighteenth birthday.
Her letter cheered Elizabeth, as usual. Mary wrote that Mr. Lucas had become even more attentive recently.
Elizabeth had thought it obvious at Christmas that he was in love with her, so she wondered what her cousin could mean.
Aunt Bennet had also noticed and approved the match, but Uncle Bennet did not believe his daughters should marry as young as their mother had.
When Mary wrote less than a month later to say she and Mr. Lucas were unofficially engaged—because her father would not yet consent—Elizabeth was unsurprised. She wrote her congratulations to Mary and requested more details from Jane, who wrote longer and more frequent letters.
Jane wrote of Mary’s courtship and Mr. Lucas’s kindness to her.
The sisters were excited to report in early April that he had been the one to finally convince their mother to allow Mary to wear her spectacles.
He had begun casually mentioning how attractive he thought a woman in spectacles could be, and suddenly Aunt Bennet insisted Mary wear them.
Jane thought they made Mary more beautiful than ever because she beamed at all the world around her that she had previously been forbidden from seeing.
After relying on his cousin Blakely to return Georgiana to school after Christmas and rejecting his Aunt Catherine’s plea to visit Rosings at Easter, Darcy had arrived in London in the middle of March to finally collect Georgiana from school himself.
By correspondence, he had agreed to devote at least a fortnight to her entertainment.
She did not wish to return to Pemberley for her six-week break and had a list of activities for them to complete together.
He was surprised by how many items on her list involved relatively quiet days together at home.
Reading together, performing her music for him, sharing favorite meals, redecorating her private sitting room.
She also requested walks and rides in London parks, which she agreed to take before the fashionable hour, so he could avoid meeting with anyone he knew. Several times, they had been caught in the rain and forced to rush home, but Darcy had found it refreshing.
Of course, she had not forgotten his promise to take her to the Royal Menagerie, but he had so far put her off, largely due to the wet weather. He had no desire to revisit scenes that would draw Elizabeth to the forefront of his memories.
He had not put her out of his mind—had stopped trying, to be honest—but he had come to terms with the fact that as much as he had realized he loved her, he could not pursue her.
He thought perhaps he would move on more quickly if he stopped fighting his feelings, but he did not wish to invite them in and dwell on them.
A promise was a promise, however, so on the first day filled with sunshine, they visited London Tower.
Darcy had prepared for the excursion by reminding himself of Elizabeth’s unsuitability.
An uncle who was a country squire with no connections, an uncle in trade who lived near Cheapside, and worst of all, a father who was in all likelihood a tenant farmer—probably a tenant of her uncle’s small estate.
Still, his carriage drew ever nearer to Gracechurch Street—he should have told his coachman to take a more circuitous route; he had not been to the area since that day with Elizabeth, having servants to shop in the market district when needed.
His heart seemed to know she was there and needed to be even closer to her.
He placed a hand on his chest as though to keep the unruly organ from painfully escaping.
“Brother, are you well?”
He looked wildly around the carriage for a moment before settling on his sister’s concerned face and nodding.
“Are you breathing?”
Darcy inhaled sharply, bringing pain to a second part of his chest.
“I am well.” He carefully showed Georgiana he remembered how to inhale and exhale.
If this was his reaction to being within a quarter mile of Elizabeth, how would he handle seeing her in the same room? No, he certainly was not ready to return to society. He would have to avoid her, at least.
Conscious that his sister still watched him, he forcefully turned his mind to their destination.
“Are you more interested in seeing the lions or the bears?” Only after speaking the question did he remember asking something oddly similar to Elizabeth’s young cousin on that morning two years prior.
Is that how this day would go? Would he see Elizabeth around every corner, feel her presence beside him, hear her excited awe and her laughter and her questions? Of course he would.
He had not thought of her as anything but a child at the time, but knowing he would have to revisit this place, his mind had returned to him every memory.
He was unsure whether some of the memories were his imagination.
Surely, she had not looked at him in the same way she had while they danced a year ago.
A year ago, she had looked almost as though she admired him as more than a friend. He knew that was untrue, however, as he had heard her telling Miss Bingley as much. He was grateful when his sister pulled him from his unsatisfying memories.
“The lions are the main attraction, are they not? I should like to see them, but what other animals will we find?”
Elizabeth had been fascinated by the ant bear.
After watching the ferocity of the lions engaged in battle, she had appreciated the gentleness of the toothless animal.
He chuckled. She had also been entranced by the tigers.
Though they looked fierce, she said, they were also majestic.
“The most beautiful animal I have ever seen,” she had said.
He wondered if she had painted one. Surely, she had made a study of the creatures after their visit and drawn them all, at least. He would have to ask her to show him—
“Brother? What animals will we see?”
“Oh, er…tigers, leopards, an ant bear, a funny little creature called a raccoon.”
“What is an ant bear? Is it an ant or a bear?”
“It eats ants with its long snout…”