Chapter 1.8 #6
It was raining again, and Colonel Fitzwilliam and Bingley spent the entire return to Pemberley complaining about the weather and even cursing from time to time. By the time they reached the house, they were soaked and hungry and wanted nothing but the comfort of their rooms.
For Darcy, the rain meant only beautiful memories; nothing could ruin his spirit. He hardly noticed he was wet and cold; and if he was indeed, the mere thought of seeing Elizabeth again and talking to her—confessing himself to her—was enough to warm him.
Darcy was tempted to go in search of her the moment he entered the house, but at the last moment, he came to his senses as he realised the poor state of his clothes.
He hurried to his room and was grateful when Stevens efficiently informed him that a bath was already prepared.
In less than half an hour, with the servant’s silent help, he was properly attired and prepared to meet Elizabeth—to meet his happiness.
“Stevens, do you happen to know whether Mr and Mrs Gardiner have arrived? I hope the bad weather will not keep them at the inn the entire day.”
“Mr and Mrs Gardiner? They were here but they left, sir, together with Miss Bennet.”
“They left?” Darcy’s shock changed his countenance instantly. “In this weather? But why?”
“I do not know, sir. I believe Miss Darcy might know more,” the servant answered, and Darcy dashed through the doorway, almost knocking him down.
He barely knocked and did not wait for an answer before entering Georgiana’s room. At first, he did not even see her until he heard her barely audible sobs coming from an armchair near the window.
He moved closer and knelt near her; it took a great effort to make her take her hands from her red, swollen eyes. When he took her hands gently, she could barely whisper, and he could hardly fathom the meaning of her cruel words. “William, she is gone…Elizabeth is gone.”
∞∞∞
Seven hours had passed and his mind still did not understand what his heart refused to accept.
Georgiana was performing for him with great difficulty; he knew she was expending this great effort only in a desperate attempt to comfort him.
He needed no comfort as he needed no company, no food, and no rest; he needed Elizabeth—more than he had needed anything else in his adult life, but Elizabeth was gone. How was that possible?
Since the moment he had heard the news, he had asked everybody what happened: Lady Cassandra who apparently had witnessed everything, Georgiana who was not coherent as she herself was confused and pained, Mrs Reynolds, Stevens, and the other servants.
Despite the bad weather, he sent Stevens to the inn to ask for more details, but the only clarification was the fact that they had left within half an hour of returning to the inn.
Cassandra had been the only one who could offer him the reason—a reason that seemed insufficient to him and gave little palliation to his torment.
Something happened back in Hertfordshire but apparently nothing tragic.
Yet, Elizabeth hurried to leave because she was afraid the rain might delay them.
Delay them from what? What was so important that she cared so little about him as to leave without a word through his sister?
Even more impossible to bear was that she had told Georgiana she would remember her and love her for the rest of her life.
Was that a last farewell? Had she taken this opportunity to run—to run away from him and from their private talk?
Was the mere idea of a second proposal so dreadful to her?
Had he completely misunderstood her signs, behaviour, and desires again as he had in April?
He attempted an apology before swiftly leaving the room, away from Pemberley, out through the rainy night, walking with no direction and no stars in the sky to light his footsteps.
He needed neither stars nor light. He only needed to know what happened to Elizabeth and to his long-desired happiness.
His steps took him farther and farther away until he could barely see the contour of Pemberley House; only then did he stop, alone in the night with his thoughts—and her memory.
Many hours later, when he returned to the house tired and soaked through from walking in the rain, his boots and greatcoat caked with mud, he felt like dancing with joy and hope: he had discovered the answer!
No, this time he had not misunderstood her; this time he would not allow despair to cloud his mind.
Her every word, every gesture, every look, every blush, and every moment they had spent together since that day in Hyde Park were testimony to her changed feelings and desires—and especially last night.
She could not have run from him! He must follow her!
He entered his room, and while he summoned Stevens and started throwing his soaked clothes carelessly on the floor, he hurriedly poured a glass of brandy to warm himself. But he startled and dropped the glass when he heard Lady Cassandra’s irritated voice from near the fire.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Darcy, are you trying to kill me with worry? This situation cannot continue any longer. We must talk!”