Beginning, Previous Section, Section IV
Jump to new as of February 26, 2007
Jump to new as of June 13, 2007
Jump to new as of January 3, 2008
Posted on Monday, 8 January 2007
Mr. Darcy's London residence had been fashioned on too grand a scale to suffer the semblance of overcrowding merely due to its accommodation of ten guests in addition to its master and mistress. Moreover, Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest daughters sought the pleasures of the shops very often, and, predictably, the level of noise and activity within the household diminished noticeably in their absence. On the whole, the gentlemen and ladies housed within the spacious dwelling were well pleased with the arrangements.
The two brides had contrived to complete all necessary errands within their first few days in town so that the remainder of the visit might be spent at leisure. Elizabeth quickly grew accustomed to the quiet elegance of her surroundings. She relished this chance to acquaint herself with the house and, more importantly, with Miss Darcy. Furthermore, she detected in Mr. Darcy a softening of his stately air, which she attributed to his being in his own home. While she did not regret the separation from Longbourn that her marriage would entail, she did feel it, and each delight culled from time spent with her future family helped counter the odd bout of melancholy brought on by thoughts of leaving behind the familiar and dear.
One afternoon while her mother, Lydia and Kitty were preparing for yet another outing, Elizabeth joined the remaining ladies in exploring the ballroom. It was a tastefully decorated space, and she found herself humming as she imagined it fitted up in full splendour for a grand event. Charlotte ventured out onto one of the balconies, and the others followed suit. Elizabeth wandered away before the rest. She continued out of the room, walking with no particular destination in mind until she saw Mr. Darcy step into the hall ahead of her. He apparently had not seen her.
"Fitzwilliam?"
He stopped and turned back when he heard her call his name.
She knew not exactly what she wanted to tell him, for what she desired to impart was more feeling than thought. Standing there observing him, she had an inkling of what it might be like to do so as the mistress of his home, and suddenly she wished that their wedding were already accomplished.
"Yes, Elizabeth?"
His obvious pleasure in seeing her, combined with the content of her musings, halted her speech. "I...I do not know...if there is anything, really." She stepped closer and lifted her face to his, hoping her expression would convey what her words had not.
"Are you well?" He manoeuvred her into a convenient corner.
"Oh, yes," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his waist. She felt embarrassed and shameless in turns, neither able to articulate her longing nor inclined to regret her forwardness. Embarrassment won, and her hands dropped to her sides. She imagined her face to be the most unbecoming shade of red. "I am sure you think me quite silly."
"Not at all," he replied. He pressed a quick kiss upon her lips and backed away, to her chagrin. "I dare not do more," he whispered, "lest we be seen, in which case your father would want to have another word with me. The lecture at Longbourn was sufficient to last until our own daughter is old enough to have a suitor."
"I see." His words did nothing to restore her composure. She lowered her head only to feel him raise it the next instant.
"Elizabeth, you cannot know how happy I am that you," he relented and kissed her once more, unhurriedly this time, "that you desire this. But now I must leave you. Your father awaits me."
"Off with you, then." She smiled, relieved that he had understood her but unable to calm the fierce beating of her heart as she watched him go.
More than an hour later, Elizabeth shivered in her chair, recalling the texture of Fitzwilliam's waistcoat against her bare arms. She could still sense the warmth of his fingers on her face, just below her ear. The words on the page before her floated indistinctly until she had lost her place again. Shaking her head, she began to read the same chapter of her book from the beginning for the fourth time. Or was it the fifth?
"A letter for you, Miss."
She looked up in confusion and reached for the envelope, wondering who might have written to her. Her parents and sisters, as well as Charlotte, were here in London with her, staying in the same house. It was not likely to be Aunt Philips or even Aunt Gardiner, whom she had just seen the previous day. Her bemusement lasted only until she read the direction. This missive had not come through the post; it had no need to, at any rate. One moment and one fortifying deep breath later, she tore the letter open right where she sat. Immediately she thought better of it and ran off to seek the greater privacy of her guest chamber, almost colliding with the servant as he was leaving the room.
I believe I comprehend your search earlier this afternoon for the proper words. I hardly know what to write, after you so sweetly accosted me and reminded me how unbearably long the time between this moment and our wedding is proving to be.
I have just left your father after discussing with him the finer details of your settlement. He remarked more than once on my distracted air and has had much amusement at my expense, which I do not begrudge him. He is presently in the library, and I have shut myself up in my study.
I meant what I said to you today. Mr. Bennet has given me his trust, and I do not intend to violate it. I would come to you this moment and talk, or not talk, as we did before, but I am afraid a brief embrace and two stolen kisses will have to suffice for now. Were you to offer me more, I could not vouch for my ability to refrain from sweeping you up to our chambers in full view of the servants and any passers-by.
Ever since you arrived in my home, I have been presented daily with the promise of such domestic happiness as I had not believed I ever would attain. Put any other woman in your place, and I cannot imagine smiling as genuinely as I do now at the prospect of taking a wife. There is more I could write, but I intend to have this letter put in your hands before tea. I will add that loving you has given me great satisfaction already, and I pray you are as satisfied with your choice. God bless you, Elizabeth.
Yours entirely,
FitzwilliamMy dearest Elizabeth,
It was only fitting that the first proper letter she received from Fitzwilliam should contain improper allusions. She reassured herself that he had every right to correspond with her now, and if the content of that correspondence was somewhat overpowering, it was no more than what she deserved after provoking him to it by her brazen conduct.
She was tempted to remain on her bed and read the letter over and over, but she could not sit still. She left her room to find Mary regarding one of the many portraits in the hall.
"Oh; it is you, Lizzy." Mary turned back to the painting.
"Only I."
"Do you think Mama will allow us a visit to a museum while we are here? It seems all she wants to do is shop, and Papa hardly stirs out of doors."
"I doubt we will interest Mama in anything beyond the finest silks and lace, but it will do no harm to ask her."
"Perhaps Miss Darcy will agree to accompany us."
As Mary continued to admire the artwork and Elizabeth attempted to determine which of the myriad faces on the walls bore a resemblance to the visage she loved best, the sisters each put forth suggestions as to how they ought to spend their last few days in town. Eventually they made their way downstairs to await the others. They did not have to wait long. Mrs. Bennet's shopping expedition had been efficient and successful; she and her youngest daughters arrived just before tea, bursting with news of their purchases.
By the time Fitzwilliam joined the gathering, Elizabeth was surrounded by ladies in so close a confederacy that there was not a single vacancy near her. She followed him with her eyes, envying everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough to attend to the conversation around her, and then admonished herself for being so silly. She was a little revived, however, by his look and his smile, both of which often were directed at her, too often, she surmised, to escape the notice of anyone in the room.
On reflection, Elizabeth concluded it was for the best that they met in company so soon after the writing and receipt of his last letter. She was willing to allow that her father's tendency to interfere in their courtship might be seen in a prudential light. If Fitzwilliam were to make good on his threat, she might...oh, what she might do! It was most shocking indeed that her sense of decency and virtue in such a point should admit of a doubt, and, really, she knew not what to say in her defence. Nevertheless, the way things were now, if Fitzwilliam Darcy were to sweep her up into his arms to take her anywhere at all for any purpose, she sincerely questioned her ability (she had no illusions as to her desire) to offer a hint of protest, even for propriety's sake.
"Well, girls, have you had your fill of London's delights? I, for one, am eager to return to the country, the unstinting and gracious hospitality of our host and hostess notwithstanding." Mr. Bennet bowed to Mr. Darcy first, and then to Miss Darcy.
"Oh, Mr. Bennet! You know we always meant to go home tomorrow." Mrs. Bennet sighed visibly and audibly, her falling shoulders rustling the fabric of her dress. "How I should love to have a house in town." She looked at Elizabeth, who turned her eyes away, amusing herself with whether to construe her mother's envy as an indirect compliment or an indirect request.
"Thank you, Mr. Bennet." was Georgiana's timid reply. "Your words are very kind, but I am certain Miss Elizabeth will do a much better job than I."
"Now, Miss Darcy, you must learn to accept such compliments as are given. Growing up in a house full of sisters has taught my daughters that, has it not, Lizzy? I cannot imagine Lydia or Kitty eschewing their share of whatever pretty words happen to be spoken to their advantage and in their hearing."
"True, Papa." Elizabeth drew Georgiana aside. "My dear Georgiana," she said playfully, "I assure you my father will not mind if you call me Eliza, or even Lizzy, as my other sisters do."
Georgiana smiled. "If you wish, but I believe I shall always think of you as Elizabeth. My brother rarely calls you anything else."
"Very well. Elizabeth it shall be, but do drop the Miss, if you please." The uncharacteristic look in Georgiana's eyes made her ask, "What else does your brother call me, if you are willing to reveal it?"
"It is nothing extraordinary, certainly not very imaginative. I fear you may be disappointed."
Elizabeth had the odd feeling that she was being teased. "Out with it, Georgiana! You have my full attention now."
Georgiana stifled a giggle. "I have heard him say it only a few times. He even wrote your name this way in a letter once but blotted the latter part, though I could still make it out, of course. He calls you Elizabeth Darcy on occasion." Her eyes flashed with a mischievous sparkle. "I suppose he prefers not to shorten your name. Although, Darcy does have fewer letters than Bennet..."
Elizabeth stared at Georgiana, whose laughter no longer could be contained, and began laughing herself. Fitzwilliam looked at both of them in amusement as he approached. They could hardly acknowledge him for laughing.
"What has the two of you in such straits?"
Georgiana caught her breath first. "I was just telling Elizabeth Darcy---I mean Elizabeth Bennet---something amusing."
Fitzwilliam's confused expression only increased their levity.
"Just imagine, Fitzwilliam, if I had referred to Elizabeth as Elizabeth Darcy in the presence of Miss Bingley. Before the wedding, I mean, or even before you were engaged. In December, for example."
Fitzwilliam chuckled at the thought. Then, abruptly, his face reddened. "Oh." He slowly blinked. "Did I do that?" Georgiana nodded. "Did she hear me?"
"Certainly she heard you. Everyone in the room did." With a smirk, Georgiana walked away to speak with Kitty and Maria.
Fitzwilliam groaned.
Elizabeth looked up at him, amazed. "So, as early as December, when you had not known me three months, you claimed me as your own in the company of our mutual acquaintances, at a time when I...well, let us just say, when I was unlikely to have appreciated the gesture. But even then, when I did not value you as I ought, I had credited you with being a clever sort of man. What, sir, induced you to say such a thing in Miss Bingley's hearing?" She was careful not to speak loudly enough for the others to take notice, especially Mr. Bingley or Jane. "How she must have hated you! No, she could never hate the Master of Pemberley. How she must have hated me!"
"Miss Bingley's feelings on that occasion hardly merit our speculation," he lowered his voice to match hers, "but had I set out to declare my feelings to our friends, I agree that would not have been the ideal manner in which to do so. You may well think me foolish for my carelessness. I had meditated on your merits constantly, becoming wholly engrossed by thoughts of you and quite inattentive to certain other ladies, almost to the point of incivility. Your name fell thus from my lips before I was aware of it."
She grinned while turning this delicious intelligence over in her mind. "Are you suggesting that I would condescend to marry a careless fool? May it never be!"
"You would not condescend to marry anyone, fool or otherwise. I cannot see it."
"Unlike you, who will have stooped down from your exalted plain to marry me, is that what you are implying?"
His look softened. "I mean nothing of the sort."
"Miss Bingley certainly will deem our marriage an act of your condescension, considering my descent."
"That is enough talk of Miss Bingley." He sidled close enough to whisper to her.
"Then what shall we talk of?"
"Elizabeth Darcy."
Her breath caught. From the look in his eyes, he had much to say on the subject, and she was not certain any of it was meant to be made public.
The sound of footsteps broke the spell as her father chose that moment to interrupt their discourse. The pair separated sufficiently to allow him to stand between them, which evidently had been his intent when he approached. Mr. Bennet's efforts to draw them into light-hearted banter blinded neither of them to his actual purpose. Nor could her father, Elizabeth realised, be blind to the genuineness of affection between Fitzwilliam and herself. The latter thought gave her comfort.
Mr. Bennet continued his vigilance throughout the afternoon and evening without any objection from Elizabeth or Mr. Darcy. Even the arrangements for their journey home the following day reflected his watchful care. Mr. Bingley travelled with Jane, but Maria and Georgiana accompanied them. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet rode with their two youngest daughters, and Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy found themselves in the company of Charlotte and Mary.
When two of the carriages stopped at Lucas Lodge, Charlotte urged Elizabeth to come inside. "Only for a few moments, Eliza." She offered an apologetic smile to Mr. Darcy. "I know you are anxious to unpack and settle in at home, but my parents will be happy to see you."
"Certainly." Elizabeth wondered at Charlotte's insistence. The tone of her voice had seemed a little too bright.
She squeezed Fitzwilliam's hand as he helped her from the carriage and smiled when she saw he did not begrudge her half an hour with her friend. Not many weeks ago, she would have hesitated to leave him to the company of her family, except Jane. Today he would have Bingley's company as well, but she no longer needed to be overly concerned for his comfort; he had insinuated himself into the lives and, she suspected, even the affections of all her family.
"How soon shall I send the carriage back for you?" Fitzwilliam asked her.
"There is no need." How had he managed to make a simple request sound romantic? Was it something in his voice, or was she simply losing all her good sense? She laughed at herself. "I doubt this will take long. I shall walk home."
"Then I shall await you at the crossing."
Sir William and Lady Lucas welcomed the party warmly and ushered the three ladies into the house. Before Elizabeth had seated herself, she heard Charlotte informing her parents and Maria of the child to come.
"Oh, Charlotte! How wonderful!" Lady Lucas, all aflutter, alternately repeated inquiries as to the expected date of the child's birth and pressed her daughter to rest. Sir William was silent but for a few half-spoken phrases, although he looked as if he could not have been more proud. Maria simply stared at her sister in awe.
"Let me see you, Charlotte. Up, now," commanded the matron, grabbing her daughter's hands and pulling her to her feet again. "No," she said thoughtfully, "you do not yet show. Your face is not full. Perhaps it is even thinner than usual; else I might have been able to guess something from that. Have you been ill? I have seen no sign of it."
"I was ill some weeks ago, but I felt much better by the time I arrived in Meryton."
"I cannot believe you kept the news from us all this time! You have been out making calls, even going to town, when you should have been here, allowing me to look after you!" Lady Lucas pouted, making her appearance ridiculously childlike. "What of Mr. Collins? Is he not pleased to be a father?"
"He does not yet know."
"How sweet of you to inform your mother first. Dearest daughter! I forgive you, then, for not telling me when you first arrived. I suppose you wanted to be certain before speaking of it to anyone. But that always is the way with you, such a loyal, dutiful girl."
Elizabeth considered it unlucky that she had not thought to feign surprise at the announcement, but her genuine enthusiasm and happiness for her friend were sufficient to keep Lady Lucas from suspecting that Charlotte's loyalty had not extended quite as far as her mother supposed.
"Oh, but you must inform my son-in-law immediately! You can send an express today."
Sir William frowned. "Mr. Collins will want you to return to Hunsford, of course."
"Sir William, surely he will allow our dear girl a few months with her own mother! There are so many things to talk of; we may as well take the time now. Maria must go to Hunsford for your confinement, Charlotte. Your father and I will bring her with us to the Parsonage, and she can remain behind as she did in March. We will return in time for the birth." Lady Lucas went on and on, elaborating on her plans, until her husband bade her sit and rest herself.
As Sir William fussed over his wife, Maria expressed her pleasure at the prospect of becoming an aunt and hurried to spread the word among her siblings. Charlotte took Elizabeth by the arm and accompanied her outside. "Thank you for obliging me. It was shameful to impose upon you in that way, but I felt it would be easier if you were there when I told Mother."
"Lady Lucas is very pleased," Elizabeth said to cover her discomfort. She suspected her usefulness to Charlotte consisted of checking Lady Lucas's impulse to heap excessive praise upon her son-in-law for this latest accomplishment, an impulse she might have followed without restraint had her audience been limited to her own family party.
"Yes, Mother is pleased. Her pleasure in my marriage has not diminished in any regard." Charlotte's words confirmed Elizabeth's suspicions. "She still takes delight in boasting of it to the Gouldings and Mrs. Long, from what I hear. This is one more reason for her to throw my husband's name and situation in their faces."
"She cannot do worse than my own mother." Elizabeth grimaced in sympathy with Charlotte. She could imagine the unguarded things her mother would say of Fitzwilliam and the mortification such vulgarity would engender in her listeners. Mrs. Bennet exercised little if any restraint over her tongue at the best of times, and the superiority of both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley to the local gentlemen virtually guaranteed that people for miles around would hear the praises of those two men for some time to come. "Perhaps I should beg Papa to take Mama and the girls on holiday directly after the ceremony to give the neighbours peace."
"Kitty would be in raptures."
"Lydia would, too, now that the officers are gone." But would her mother choose travelling over remaining in the neighbourhood to boast of her good fortune to the four and twenty families with which they dined? "Mama may not agree to the scheme, but my sisters would love a change of scene. Did you notice how reluctant they were to remove from town? Since we are all to be old married women," she was heartened to see Charlotte smile at her turn of phrase, "our younger sisters need not remain at home more than six months out of the year if they do not wish it. There is London or Derbyshire, or perhaps even the seaside---anywhere but Brighton will do."
"Maria did seem to enjoy herself in Hunsford."
"Yes, she did. It was all she could talk of as the carriage pulled away from your door. She had hoped to receive another invitation this year and will be glad to be of use to you." She frowned, thinking of Charlotte going away. "How long will you stay at Lucas Lodge?"
Charlotte looked down. "I shall have to go back soon after the wedding, no matter what Mother thinks."
"Are you ready to go back?"
"I am now. I shall write my husband today. It will save my parents the fuss and bother of an express. He shall have a few weeks to prepare for my return." Charlotte smiled a tentative smile.
"Will he not be eager to see you after so long an absence?"
"As to his eagerness, I cannot say. But he will be ready." Charlotte looked determinedly in the direction of Longbourn; the boundary was just visible from where they stood on the road near Lucas Lodge. "He most definitely will be."
Despite Charlotte's chilling tone, Elizabeth imagined Mr. Collins would be willing to forgive his wife anything once he knew that he might be the father of an heir. Surely Lady Catherine would not be able to demand all of his attention and deference in the face of that circumstance. While Elizabeth had no fear of Charlotte turning into another Mrs. Bennet, she nevertheless desired that the Collinses would be blessed with a son. Perhaps Mr. Collins would feel less beholden to Lady Catherine if his family's prospects were secured to the next generation. He likely would always remain petty and pompous, but she hoped her cousin might become less grasping and resentful in view of his increasing good fortune.
The ladies walked together until they spied Mr. Darcy ahead of them.
"Thank you again, for everything. I had a marvellous time in London." Charlotte grasped Elizabeth's hands and smiled before turning towards home.
Elizabeth resumed walking until she reached the tree beneath which Fitzwilliam stood.
"What did you and Mary discuss on the way to Longbourn? Something practical, or at least edifying?"
"We did."
"Just as I anticipated."
"But you will be surprised, I think, at the topic of our conversation."
"Surprised? I do not know. Did she petition you again for the use of the library at Pemberley? Or did you request a particular song to be performed during the wedding breakfast?" ‘One that does not require Mary to sing,' she added silently.
"No, but your prescience amazes me, my love, for we did speak of music. I broached the subject of her joining us in town next winter, and I may have mentioned the opportunity to study with Mrs. Jenkinson."
Fitzwilliam smiled and Elizabeth smiled back, warmed by his thoughtfulness. Mary could only benefit from such a guide as Mrs. Jenkinson and would be grateful to Fitzwilliam for investing in her talent. Kitty, while not exhibiting any new accomplishments as a result of her elder sister's engagement, had already grown less irritable, less ignorant, and less insipid under Fitzwilliam's influence. She wondered whether her betrothed would stumble upon some key to Lydia's improvement as well. ‘Perhaps not,' she gleefully thought. ‘After all, he must leave something for Bingley to do.'
Linking arms, the lovers proceeded slowly towards the house. They took advantage of their close proximity to one another to indulge in the lingering touches and whispered endearments expected of an engaged couple. These small but satisfying liberties rendered them proof against the temptation to veer onto the path leading to a prettyish, and rather private, little wilderness that was part of Longbourn's grounds.
Posted on Monday, 26 February 2007
"Sister!" The voice of Mrs. Philips rang out through the corridors of Longbourn. "Sister, where are you? Are you busy?"
Mrs. Bennet stood, barely catching her sewing as it slid from her lap. "Busy?" She rolled her eyes. "With but two days until the wedding, what else can I be?"
Elizabeth and Jane looked at each other and smiled. Mary glanced up. Kitty and Lydia, easily distracted and eager for any excuse to rest their weary fingers, shoved their work aside as Mrs. Philips charged through the door ahead of the servant.
"There you are!" She proceeded to impart her news, which could not be delayed: Mr. Collins had come to Hertfordshire to fetch his wife. "Maria Lucas told me just this morning. I saw her on the way to the butcher's shop. Mr. Collins arrived last night at Lucas Lodge at sunset. Had I not been in my kitchen at exactly that time, I would have seen his gig from my parlour window. I try to keep watch and note who is coming and going, but I had so much to do yesterday that it simply was not possible to observe the main road at every moment."
"Well, well, and so Mr. Collins is come, Sister." Mrs. Bennet frowned and shook her head by turns. "Not that I care anything about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure I never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome to go to Lucas Lodge, if he likes it. His presence there will keep Charlotte from calling on us at all hours."
"Mama!" Elizabeth protested. Her friend could hardly be accused of calling ‘at all hours'. In fact, Elizabeth had seen very little of her since their return from London. "Charlotte has always been welcome here."
"But her husband! "
"Mama, If Mr. Collins does not convince Charlotte to go away with him before the wedding, he may attend with her. If he does, we all shall have to do our best to be civil and welcoming to him." The last thing Elizabeth needed was for her mother and Mr. Collins to have words at her wedding breakfast.
"I do not need my own daughter to tell me how to behave to guests! Of course I will be civil, but no more than civil. I welcomed that man into my house last year, and it ended in nothing. Had you not had the good fortune to catch Mr. Darcy's eye, I would be furious with you still for refusing Mr. Collins. Even now I do not know how I shall bear giving up Longbourn when your father is dead."
"My dear sister, do not despair!" Mrs. Philips sat up straight, her smile at odds with the gravity of the topic. "You may be the mother of five girls grown up, but you still have your looks. Should you have the misfortune to lose poor Mr. Bennet, it is possible that you might remarry. There are many gentlemen, respectable widows of our age, or a little older, who find themselves in need of companionship. Keep your eyes open, and do not despair."
No one dared respond, though Lydia giggled. Elizabeth stared at her aunt in shock and disgust, resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the vulgarity of a vulgar woman. Her father's joining them immediately after did nothing to dispel her uneasiness.
"Mrs. Philips, I thought I had heard your voice."
"Oh! Mr. Bennet, how d'ye do, my dear brother?"
"I am glad to know I am still dear to you. Just a moment ago, I had feared otherwise."
"Nonsense, I..." It appeared even Mrs. Philips possessed some delicacy, though belatedly applied. Either that or the edge in Mr. Bennet's voice had shaken her.
Mrs. Bennet certainly was not unaffected and rose from her chair with alacrity. "Mr. Bennet, are you at leisure?" Her voice was tremulous and low, and she latched onto her husband's arm with a sort of tender desperation. "Sister," she said, turning to Mrs. Philips, "I would love to stay and talk, but I have far too many things to attend to. I shall see you tomorrow. Girls, keep to your work; the time is short."
Elizabeth watched her parents and aunt leave the room amidst the disappointed groans of her two youngest sisters. "Jane," she said, "promise me we shall never behave in such an unfeeling manner to each other."
"I cannot imagine it, Lizzy." Jane's smile wavered. The two of them glanced at Lydia, who was already laughing again at whatever it was she and Kitty were discussing. Mary's quiet remonstrance, as usual, had no discernible effect on Lydia's behaviour.
"I love this house, I really do," Elizabeth confided to Jane in a low voice, "but there are some aspects of living here that I shall not miss at all."
"My dear cousin, I congratulate you. I hope you and Mr. Darcy will be very happy together."
For the second time that day, Elizabeth felt adrift in her own drawing room. She stared unblinking at the man in front of her, thinking surely she must have misheard him. The combination of awkward silence and Mr. Collins's anxious but sincere expression---all the more convincing because she had never seen it on his face before---roused her to civility. "Thank you, Mr. Collins, for your good wishes. I believe we shall be quite happy."
"Is your father at leisure? I wish to speak with him."
"Certainly. You will find him in the library."
"No, no; stay, please," he said as she began to rise from the sofa. "No need to escort me. I am quite familiar with the rooms of my future...er, your lovely home."
Elizabeth nodded and forced herself to remain in her seat, not at all certain she should not run ahead of her cousin after all to warn her father of the alteration in his kinsman, lest he faint from the shock.
"Charlotte!" Elizabeth hissed the moment Mr. Collins had left the room. "Charlotte, what did you do to him?" Luckily, she and her friend were alone, her sisters being engaged elsewhere in the house and her mother having declined to greet the visitors.
"I wrote him a letter."
"That is all?"
"I told him the truth."
"The truth," Elizabeth repeated in awe, having no idea what Charlotte meant. "My cousin is quite changed from when I last saw him." ‘I only hope it will last,' she thought. She was desperate to know more. Her expressive look to Charlotte finally achieved her desire. With a sigh, her friend began to tell her about the letter she had penned to her husband.
"I thought it wise to put an end to any pretence that Mr. Collins and I had been impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination to marry. He knows I cannot but be aware of his previous interest in you. I am certain his decision to pay his addresses to me was due as much to his hurt pride as to his determination to follow Lady Catherine's orders. And though my dowry was small, my being the daughter of a knight did not injure my chances with him."
Charlotte looked down and folded her hands in her lap. "As for me, his prospects were compelling to a lady with no prospects of her own."
"You broached all this in a letter?"
"I did."
"Was my cousin not offended?"
"I cannot say what his initial reaction was. He has not mentioned it. But he is here, and he has begun to make amends. Is that not proof enough?"
"It is more than enough." Elizabeth shook her head, marvelling at Charlotte's initiative as much as the effects of it.
"I also told him there was no need to struggle for what he already had obtained. I have since come to understand that his father was a miserly, tight-fisted man, always giving a treat or a privilege only to take it back again, without warning or explanation. It is no wonder the son has never been completely secure in what he possesses."
Elizabeth tried to picture a younger, less confident Mr. Collins suffering the whims of a tyrannical parent. She did not doubt Charlotte's information; Mr. Bennet had never had a good word to say about the elder Mr. Collins. "I can imagine my cousin's former experiences made your absence even more troubling."
"You are right, Eliza. He allowed Lady Catherine's version of events to stand uncontested---she told our neighbours that he had sent me away on some cause of disapprobation---but all the while he was terrified I would not come back. I had not written him at all, you see, not one word before last week. He tells me my father did write to him, however, and that only heightened his fears. He will not say what was in the letter, and my father refuses to speak of it. Fortunately, the two of them have been on cordial terms since my husband's arrival last night."
"That must ease your mind considerably." Elizabeth thought on all Charlotte had said. "You were very bold, but I believe boldness was required. I do not know that I could have done what you did, had I been in your place." Even with an infinitely more amiable husband than Charlotte possessed, would she be daring---and gracious---enough to make the first move towards reconciliation in a similar circumstance?
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Eliza! You, who scrupled not to argue with Mr. Darcy? You would have said that and more, only in person rather than by letter."
Elizabeth laughed and could not deny it. "You make me quite ashamed of myself, Charlotte."
"You should rather be proud of yourself. I have come around to your way of thinking. There is much to be said for frankness. As for letters, some of us find written communication more to our taste when faced with difficult explanations. But where is your Mr. Darcy today?" Charlotte enquired, signalling that she had said all she intended on the topic of her marriage. "And Mr. Bingley? Have your busybody neighbours frightened away your and Jane's lovers?"
"No." Elizabeth smiled at Charlotte's teasing. "They are keeping themselves occupied at Netherfield as a favour to us. Mama has been at wit's end, trying to finish all this work. I have entertained a doubt or two myself as to our ability to accomplish everything we would wish."
"You have come far, from what I have seen. Some things can safely be left until after the ceremony."
"Yes; we have not been negligent. All that is truly important has been done. Yet, as much as I miss Fitzwilliam, I am happy to have one full day dedicated to women's business."
The next day, Elizabeth awoke and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking on all she needed to accomplish before nightfall. Charlotte's words about letter-writing had given her an idea, but she had not yet found time to implement it. Fitzwilliam was to dine at Longbourn in the evening, so Elizabeth resolved to make the most of what remained of the morning hours before the tasks at hand swallowed up her good intentions.
After breakfast, she returned to her room with Kitty and Lydia. She had asked her mother for some time to allow the younger girls to sort through those of her belongings that had not been packed away or given to her maid, who had got most of Jane's cast-offs already. Both mother and sisters agreed heartily with the plan. Elizabeth marvelled at how quickly her tidy assortment of clothing was reduced to a chaotic jumble on her bed.
"Oh, Lizzy! This gown is gorgeous! You have hardly worn it."
"You may have it, Kitty. The colour suits you better than it does me."
"I want it!" Lydia dropped the dress and bonnet she had been admiring and reached for the garment in Kitty's hands.
"Lydia, you are too tall for it. It really would look better on Kitty. Here," Elizabeth offered, "take this one. It is a little longer, and the shade complements your eyes."
"Lizzy is right, Lydia," Kitty agreed, holding her own find behind her back.
Elizabeth sighed. She would never be able to think with the girls bickering beside her. "Why don't you take these things to your own room, where you may fight over them as much as you like?"
"Do you mean we may have all of it?" Kitty's eyes shined in excitement and gratitude.
"I promise I shall join you later and take back anything I absolutely cannot bear to leave behind," she answered with an affected solemnity that faded quickly when her sister's shoulders drooped in disappointment. "Do not fret, Kitty. I am certain most if not all of these clothes will remain safe at Longbourn with you and Lydia."
Once alone, Elizabeth sat down, armed with paper, pen, ink and Fitzwilliam's letters. Not one to dally over a task, she began immediately to write, stopping from time to time to glean inspiration from one of the other missives.
I have been remiss in not writing to you before now and am grieved to find myself already several letters in your debt. However, as only one of your letters to me was written within the bounds of propriety---and then barely so---I have hopes that you will find it in your heart to forgive me and consider yourself amply recompensed by the receipt of this note.
I miss you terribly. You call me ‘dearest' often enough; let me assure you that you are most dear to me. I feel your absence acutely and can only rejoice that after tomorrow I shall be assured of your presence on a more permanent basis.
All this missing and Missish behaviour turns me melancholy, so now I must tease you and require you to account for having ever fallen in love with me. I can comprehend your going on charmingly when once you had made a beginning, but what could have set you off in the first place? My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners, my behaviour to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil. Is it possible you admired me for my impertinence?
Mama has called for me once already, so I must go. I have loved my name, ordinary as it is, for as long as I can remember, yet how anxious I am to give it up for another! Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.
Yours most sincerely,
Elizabeth
My dear Fitzwilliam,Darcy Bennet
No sooner had Elizabeth given her letter to a servant with instructions to deliver it to Netherfield immediately than she was waylaid by Lydia, who had been sent by her mother to fetch her. She went directly to the dining room to discuss the evening's dinner plans with Mrs. Bennet. Her mother found a few more items requiring her daughter's attention before their conference was declared at an end, and above an hour had passed before Elizabeth was at leisure to go upstairs again. Returning to her room, she opened her door and, to her horror, heard her betrothed's written words spoken in her father's voice.
"‘Having flouted propriety once in this manner...'"
"Papa! No!" Elizabeth rushed forward and grabbed at the letter in Mr. Bennet's hand.
"You will tear it in your haste." Mr. Bennet held it out of reach.
"Please, Papa!" She thrust out her hand, and he placed the paper in her trembling palm.
"What is the matter, Lizzy?" Jane's voice sounded from the doorway.
"Your sister apparently received more than one letter from Mr. Darcy before her engagement."
Jane showed no surprise on hearing this announcement.
Mr. Bennet huffed, visibly annoyed. "You knew of this, Jane? You approve of such impropriety?"
Elizabeth watched her sister's expression harden as her father stared in indignant impatience.
"What is done cannot be undone," Jane said. "They have harmed no one." As she retreated, Elizabeth heard her continue, "Your time would have been better spent attending to your own correspondence." Jane gasped and muttered, "Forgive me," before fleeing down the hall.
Elizabeth, incredulous, turned her head just in time to see the effects Jane's bitter words had wrought on her father's countenance.
Mr. Bennet shuddered and turned his face away. "I had suspected she was still upset over that letter from Bingley. Now I have proof."
"I do not know when I have seen her so affected."
"If Jane is angry with me, it has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it."
"But, Papa, I believe she already regrets her outburst."
"No, Lizzy. Let me once in my life feel how much I have been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon enough." He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort. "Your mother would have known better what to do with that letter than I! Bingley should have addressed his scribbles to her instead. She has patience aplenty where her daughters' marriage prospects are concerned."
"Papa, please! How can you make a joke of this?"
"Do not worry. I shall find Jane and set things to rights." Mr. Bennet stopped in front of the door. "I suppose you are wondering what brought me to your room and, more to the point, how I came in possession of your private correspondence."
Elizabeth, still discomposed by her sister's words and very much mortified by her father's discovery of Fitzwilliam's letters, struggled for the appearance of composure and did not wish to open her mouth until she believed she had attained it.
Her father did not give her the opportunity. "I will not make you ask. I had come to see your room, to say farewell, in a way, to the little Lizzy I once knew. The letter fell from atop that stack there," he said, pointing to her table. "I picked it up, and it opened in my hand. I did not read the whole, only enough to know it was not from any of your sisters. The wording struck me as suspicious. You know the rest." He offered no apology, but there was penitence in all his looks. "I shall not question you about any of the others. Jane was quite right. After tomorrow, you no longer will be under my roof." He sighed, and his smile was bittersweet. "Despite the occasional lapse, your Mr. Darcy is an admirable gentleman." He took a last look about him and left the room.
Elizabeth gathered Fitzwilliam's letters to her bosom and waited until her breathing had returned to its normal, steady rhythm.
Before day's end, all seemed well again within the Bennet household.
The Gardiners' arrival that afternoon proved something of a curative. Jane was considerably cheered, and her sisters diverted, by the presence of their young cousins. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner unknowingly eased the lingering awkwardness between the Bennets and Mrs. Philips, who had stopped by to meet her brother and sister from town. When the time came to dress for dinner, Aunt Philips took the children off to dine in Meryton with her and her husband and left the parents to enjoy their meal at Longbourn.
Elizabeth was relieved to note that Jane and her father were as easy in each other's company as they had ever been. Her sister loved her family very much and loathed being at odds with any member of it. Apparently these sentiments extended to her new family as well, for when the dinner guests arrived, Jane welcomed not just Mr. Bingley, but also Mr. Bingley's sisters and Mr. Hurst, with genuine enthusiasm.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst both appeared humbled by Jane's amicable greeting, in striking contrast to Miss Bingley's deplorable behaviour during her previous visit to Longbourn. When the Bennets were lately in town, there had been little contact between the Darcy residence and Grosvenor Street, to which Miss Bingley and the Hursts had fled only days after acknowledging their brother's engagement. Perhaps with time and distance had come resignation, Elizabeth reasoned. Whatever the truth of the matter, neither Caroline nor Louisa showed outward signs of disapprobation or discontent, and Jane was positively beaming.
Dinner passed off uncommonly well. The gentlemen rejoined the ladies after a brief separation, for they had agreed to make an early night of it to allow the brides ample rest. In addition, the Netherfield party wished to return in time to greet the late arrivals, Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam among them, who were travelling at Mr. Darcy's invitation.
Mr. Darcy asked Elizabeth to entertain the company with some music.
"I shall, if Mary will play for me."
"Of course," Mary acceded. The sisters made their selection and performed it delightfully, if the response of their audience was any indication.
"More, please!" Mr. Bingley begged them. "That was splendid!"
Elizabeth looked at Jane sitting serenely by Charles's side and grinned. "If you can convince my eldest sister to join us, I shall oblige you."
"Jane, do you also sing? Why have I never heard you?"
"I hardly ever do, and never in public."
Jane continued to demur, but Elizabeth gently coaxed her from her chair. "We are amongst family now. Just this once and I shall not ask you again. Well, not for several weeks, at least." She assumed a most plaintive air. "Please, Jane? You cannot disappoint dear Mr. Bingley." Mrs. Bennet and even Mrs. Hurst joined in her plea, and Jane had no choice but to consent.
Mary started to rise from her seat, but Elizabeth spoke quietly to her, and she nodded and stayed where she was. When Elizabeth repeated the words to Jane, the latter chortled and quickly covered her mouth, but she did not protest. The girls took a minute to consult with one another and ascertained that they all recalled enough of the song to do it credit. They decided that Mary, whose voice was not so weak in the lower register as it tended to be when she aimed for high notes, would sing contralto. Elizabeth would take the soprano, and Jane would strike a harmony between the two.
The three ladies barely maintained their composure as they began a whimsical piece about a girl who, after a long and arduous search, met her Prince Charming, kissed him, and cried as he transformed into a toad and hopped away. Elizabeth turned aside from Mary and Jane in order to keep from chuckling as the tale unravelled. She refused to meet her father's eye or her uncle's. She noticed her mother and aunt talking quietly in the corner, or, rather, her mother talked while her aunt listened. Mr. Darcy's puzzled brow suddenly relaxed; Elizabeth wondered if he had just recognised the melody from their playing several weeks before. Mr. Bingley sat in delighted astonishment. Mr. Hurst looked decidedly amused, and his wife ceased fiddling with her bracelets and curiously observed her husband. A sour-faced Miss Bingley stared at Mr. Darcy's back for much of the performance.
Kitty appeared a trifle pale at one point; then she giggled and whispered something to Lydia. Lydia, who could never be quiet for long, especially when she ought to be, almost spoiled everything with her impromptu yet fitting descant of "Warty Wickham." Fortunately for the performers, the song concluded soon after this unexpected addition, and the party, save a few, burst into laughter and applause. Even Miss Bingley could not wholly suppress a smile.
Mr. Bingley approached the trio at the pianoforte and offered his compliments. "Jane, you should sing more often! The three of you sound very well together."
"I have heard that members of the same family often do." Jane looked pleased at his approbation.
"Next time, my dears," suggested Mrs. Bennet, "I hope you will sing of something more appealing than toads."
"Princes and toads," laughed Mr. Bennet, "and warts!" he added, glancing at Lydia and Kitty. "Truly, I must have five of the silliest girls in the country."
"Not for long, Papa," Elizabeth cheerfully reminded him.
"No indeed, my dear Mrs. Darcy," sounded a familiar voice close to Elizabeth's ear. The touch of Fitzwilliam's hand on the small of her back made her shiver despite the heat in the room. "Not for very long at all."