Chapter 31
“How does it feel when you truly love?” asked Elizabeth, looking with pleasure at Agnes, who had been radiant with happiness ever since her engagement became official.
“It is wonderful, especially when you have never felt anything of the kind before.”
“Never?” Elizabeth was surprised and perhaps a little troubled. Lately, she had wished that all their youthful dreams of one great love were not true, that one might love more than once in a lifetime.
“Never. I know what I am saying. My husband was much older than I, and though he was a remarkable man, what I felt for him was affection and respect, but not this feeling…”
“This feeling?” Elizabeth would have given anything to learn more, to have every sensation that led to love, and love itself, described in the smallest detail. She longed to understand, yet she knew it was impossible, for definitions belonged to reason, not the heart.
“You will see,” said Agnes gently. “I am not particularly skilled with words.”
She broke off suddenly and looked at Elizabeth. Ever since the colonel had proposed to her, her friend had seemed more thoughtful than before.
“Elizabeth, my marriage does not mean that you must leave.”
Yet even as she spoke, Agnes realised that in the new circumstances Elizabeth herself would not wish to remain for long.
Two young people in love wished to be alone as much as possible, and the life they had shared, spending nearly all their time together and following the same routine, could not continue unchanged.
Her role as tutor to the children would become the principal reason for remaining in the house, precisely what they had avoided until now by sparing Elizabeth the feeling that she was merely an employee.
“It is foolish to think of such things already. The colonel has gone to London. It will take some time before he leaves the army.”
“Alice, I never imagined I would remain here for long.”
“I did, because I never imagined something so wonderful could happen to me…and it is all thanks to you. Without you, I should never have gone to Pemberley. We shall be grateful to you for the rest of our lives.”
Elizabeth smiled, for Agnes spoke in the plural. Already, she and the man she loved had become one. So this was what love looked like.
And she found herself wondering, with some sadness, whether she would ever meet another man like Mr Darcy.
Lately, every encounter with him had become a struggle against something stirring within her.
Whenever he was near, she felt a happiness she could neither control nor explain; when he was absent, disappointment followed.
Yet nothing in his manner suggested that he still felt anything for her, at the very moment when love itself had unexpectedly begun to awaken within her.
It was love.
She did not doubt it, precisely because she had never felt anything similar before. Exactly as Agnes had said.
When they visited Miss Darcy at Pemberley, she always hoped to see him.
If he appeared, it seemed as though her whole soul filled with joy.
If he was absent, detained elsewhere by business, the disappointment genuinely hurt.
Both joy and disappointment were irrational, for nothing remained between them beyond a friendship, and even that was a distant one, since they rarely spent any time together.
“Elizabeth,” said Agnes gently, drawing her from her thoughts. “You are thinking about leaving, and I understand that. But why do I have the impression that it is not only me you will miss?”
The tone was cheerful, the words playful, yet Elizabeth blushed deeply.
As long as that feeling remained hidden within her, she could still deny it. If it became visible to others, matters would grow dangerous. He must never know. And she was equally afraid of Agnes and the colonel, who still dreamed of bringing them together.
Yet a few days ago, Agnes had inadvertently revealed something interesting, something she had learned from the colonel. It seemed that the gentleman who had proposed to her at Hunsford without first inquiring into her feelings now desired to be loved.
Elizabeth searched no more for a way out of the small trap before her. For nothing in the world would induce her to confess to Agnes that she suspected she had fallen in love.
“You once told me that Mr Darcy wishes the woman he marries to love him.”
“The colonel told me so, and I felt it was something of a secret. I committed an indiscretion…but I wanted you to know that Mr Darcy has changed far more profoundly than appearances suggest.”
“Why is this so important news for me?” asked Elizabeth.
“Because it always seemed to me that you could never have feelings for him while he was not only proud but somehow rigid. Well, I do not believe he is so any longer. A man who asks for love is unusual in our society, where most men desire wives without ever reflecting beyond obtaining a mistress for their house and a mother for their children. But you changed him—”
“Stop. Do not go so far. I did nothing except refuse him and shout at him,” said Elizabeth at last, smiling.
“It was enough. He came to understand his mistake not only in the manner of his proposal but in its very substance. He asked you to become his wife, yet he never asked you to love him. At the time, that seemed perfectly natural because society had prepared him for precisely such expectations. Your refusal awakened him to a different reality.”
“You are too reflective. I do not believe such complicated transformations can result from a single rejected proposal.”
“Well, with him they did, and that only proves what an extraordinary man he is.”
“Then I hope he finds love.”
She was pleased with that conclusion because it did not involve her in any way.
Mr Darcy would never know that she had ultimately been impressed by his transformation.
It was only natural, for it was obvious that he no longer wished to marry her.
Perhaps he still retained some feelings, but this time the struggle within him, if it still existed, had been won by the part of him that desired a woman who loved him.
She had considered that if he learned of her own altered feelings, he might reflect again. Yet she could never use Agnes and the colonel for such a purpose. It would be degrading.
There remained the possibility of telling him herself, directly or indirectly, but that frightened her. He might long since have overcome his love, and she would place herself in an unfavourable, if not humiliating, position.
“Let us enjoy the time we still have together,” said Agnes. “You know that our house will always be open to you for as long as you wish. On the other hand, in Meryton, you will stay with one of your newly married sisters. Why then not remain here with us?”
“I shall answer honestly because I have thought deeply about it. In Meryton, my situation…our situation has changed greatly for the better. I may choose where to live without inconveniencing anyone. Netherfield is a big house where one might go days without seeing another person if one wished, and Longbourn is hardly small. My sisters will not devote themselves to entertaining me, that is certain, yet in Meryton there are my mother, my aunt, my other sisters, and all our friends. I shall not feel alone, because I shall walk into the street and everything will seem as it once did.”
“I understand. Yet here you are close to Pemberley, and your friendship with Miss Darcy grows deeper every day.”
“That is true, but home contains my whole life, and it is there that I wish to remain until—”
“Until?”
“Until I marry,” she replied with such composure that Agnes regarded her rather suspiciously.
“What?” asked Elizabeth. “Have I said something wrong?”
“No. On the contrary, you have said something perfectly sensible.”
“And you are not accustomed to sensible remarks from Elizabeth Bennet?” Elizabeth laughed heartily.
“Well…I am more accustomed to resistance whenever marriage is mentioned, unless it is accompanied by the greatest love.”
“Indeed? I did not say that I intended to marry the first gentleman who offered for me. I merely expressed my wish and my intention to marry. And no, dear Mrs Cooper, Mrs Fitzwilliam very soon, I have no need of either your assistance or the colonel’s.”
“And there is the lack of common sense I am accustomed to in Elizabeth Bennet,” said Agnes, joining in her laughter, though privately she regretted that her friend appeared so determined to avoid any serious reflection upon her feelings for the master of Pemberley.
She and the colonel were both convinced that the two fools were deeply in love.