Chapter 9 #2
Elizabeth rose the next morning after a sleepless night, determined upon a walk.
The usual spot, where she and Mr Darcy had twice met by what might almost have been design, seemed the likeliest place to encounter him.
She hoped he would be there. That she might ask questions and he might answer.
She wished — more than she cared to admit — to ask for his side of the story regarding his past dealings with Mr Wickham, which might explain the officer’s present actions.
The path was empty, and she leaned against a tree, looking around for a sign of him.
She waited longer than dignity strictly allowed, pacing a little way and returning, listening for footsteps that never came.
At last, dissatisfied and more unsettled than before, she turned back towards the parsonage.
There she found Sir William already preparing for departure, his luggage at the door.
They had a last breakfast together, and Sir William apologised repeatedly for all the trouble he had caused with his illness and then with his friend Mr King.
A long farewell was taken before the gentleman entered his carriage and left.
As soon as he disappeared from view, Mr Collins addressed his wife.
“My dear, I shall go to Rosings. I wonder if Lady Catherine is still upset. Perhaps she will allow me to talk to her if only briefly. I should apologise to her again. As much as I care for your father, he was right — he did cause much trouble.”
“Very well, Mr Collins, do as you think is proper and required,” Charlotte said.
“I shall convey to Lady Catherine your gratitude and apologies,” he said before leaving in a hurry.
Once they were alone, Maria dared to speak again.
“I am sure Mr Wickham wants to marry Mary King for her fortune because she is not at all that pretty or witty! But do not all men do that? And Mary — I know she is in love with him! If I had a good dowry, I would marry the man I love, regardless of whether he loved me or not. It is better than to marry someone who loves me but whom I hate.”
“Maria!” Charlotte scolded her. “This is not a subject to be spoken of so lightly by a young girl!”
“But you know I am right, Charlotte. Do you not agree, Eliza?”
“I am not sure how to respond,” Elizabeth answered. “I have no knowledge about the feelings and intentions of either Mr Wickham or Mary King. I only hope she has not jeopardised her future and her family’s name.”
“What if you had such a fortune and Mr Wickham proposed to you?” Maria suddenly asked. Disconcerted, Elizabeth paused, uncertain how to answer.
“In truth, I do not know, Maria. But I know for sure that, fortune or not, I would never marry a man I do not know well enough to decide if I can respect and admire him.”
The conversation had become delicate and slightly awkward, and Charlotte remembered she had something to do in the kitchen.
Elizabeth went to her room and wrote another letter to Jane, asking whether she knew about the elopement.
An hour later, Mr Collins returned, agitated and red-faced.
“I am afraid I have terrible news. Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam left for London this morning as well. Lady Catherine informed me in person, and she blames Mr King for their sudden departure, when they had planned to stay another week. Lady Catherine is exceedingly upset.”
“And what is the terrible news, my dear?” Charlotte asked. “Did something else happen?”
“That is the terrible news, my dear!” he replied in an irritated voice. “The gentlemen’s unexpected change of plan, which angered Lady Catherine. You know how much she despises seeing her plans fail!”
Elizabeth received the news with silent surprise. She had been disappointed to not find Mr Darcy in the park, and now she was even more puzzled and intrigued.
What reason might induce him to alter his plans all of a sudden? His diligence in helping Mr King was strange and did not entirely make sense. What could a man wholly unrelated to a family do to stop a young woman from acting according to her desires? And why would he even take the trouble?
Besides so many questions without answers, a sense of regret stirred inside Elizabeth.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she did regret Mr Darcy’s absence.
She had just begun to know him, to discover his true nature, to enjoy his company.
Perhaps, with Mr Bingley’s growing attachment to Jane and with their new friendship with Miss Darcy, Mr Darcy might become a friend too.
Now that he was gone, her first thought was how dull the rest of her stay at Hunsford would be.
“Dear Eliza, you are very thoughtful. May I guess that the departure of a certain gentleman has saddened you?” Charlotte asked.
“Excuse me?” Elizabeth replied, while Mr Collins looked uncomfortable.
“I mean Colonel Fitzwilliam, of course,” Charlotte said with a small laugh. “We all noticed how you enjoyed each other’s company and—”
“My dear Charlotte, do not even joke about that!” Mr Collins interrupted harshly. “Lady Catherine would be appalled to hear such nonsense! The colonel is the second son of an earl. He must marry someone from his circle, someone with an excellent situation in life and a significant fortune.”
“Do not fret, Mr Collins, I know very well to what circle I belong and how poor my situation in life is. But I can still enjoy the colonel’s amiable company, can I not? Besides, he is gone now, so the matter is irrelevant.
She went to the window and looked out upon the familiar prospect of the garden and the lane beyond. Colonel Fitzwilliam was the last subject that preoccupied her mind, as amiable and pleasant as he was.
The morning was fine, the air clear, yet she felt a peculiar weight settle upon her spirits.
Mary King’s rash flight, Mr Wickham’s true character, Mr Darcy’s sudden departure — all of it formed a puzzle whose pieces she could not yet arrange.
And somewhere in the midst of it, she suspected, lay a truth that would alter more than one opinion she had held with such confidence only a fortnight ago.