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Chapter 20
The words had been spoken and she had agreed. Your heart belongs to another. It was true, and since it was, what right did she have to impose on Mr. Grinly's happiness? Did he not deserve to be happy? Did he not deserve to be loved?
"Very well," she whispered.
It was done. She was no longer engaged. She was no longer to be married. She sat in stunned silence, wondering how it was possible that so much of her life could change in just an instant of time. She must have slipped into something of a reverie, because it was with a start that she heard him speak to her.
"...and may I ask one thing of you?"
"Yes..." she said as she recollected herself. "Of course ... anything."
Elizabeth did not like the way her voice wavered. Her regret was becoming poignant. Yes, she would grant him anything he asked of her, if only it would make him happier, if it were possible that she could now bring any shred of happiness into his life.
He sat down and occupied the empty space next to her on the bench.
"You must allow me to be the one that informs your mother," he said softly. "I can imagine how she will react and how she will treat you, and you do not deserve that. You must allow me this. You must give me this chance to help you."
"You take too much upon yourself, sir."
She reached out to touch his hand by way of emphasis, but recalling their change in situation, she withdrew it with an embarrassed look that begged his forgiveness for an impertinent gesture.
"I think not," replied Mr. Grinly in a gentle tone of voice. "Constance and I will leave for Wiltshire in the morning," he said. "You will talk to her, will you not?"
"I will. I could not let her leave without speaking to her," was Elizabeth's reply, and she watched him stand and walk slowly back to the house.
When he was gone from her sight, try as she might, she could not hold back her tears. The shock of one moment being engaged to marry, and the next moment unshackled, though not free, was overwhelming. There would be no freedom while her heart was attached to Mr. Darcy.
The passage of time to the usually impatient Mr. Darcy was irrelevant today. His worries were not centered on the length of the trip from Hertfordshire to London, but on the rest of his life. Never having given his heart to any woman, he now found it lost, and as the distance between himself and Netherfield grew, he knew a part of him, and what he recognized as the best part, remained behind.
When he told Mrs. Bingley of his love for Elizabeth, he had never imagined that his ultimate act of love would be giving her up forever. He had hoped to win her back. He had hoped love was enough, but she had sent him away. Willingly she had consigned them both to a life without love. He, because he was not allowed to love her, and she, because she did not love Mr. Grinly. Peering through the darkness that surrounded his mind, he knew he would never see clearly again.
Recalling her situation, Elizabeth wiped her tears and walked into the house. Mr. Grinly was in the drawing room talking to Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth drew up near the door, though remaining out of sight of both, and listened to what passed between them.
"...in choosing a wife, Mrs. Bennet, it is my desire to provide myself with a companion I can love and respect and who loves me, and for that woman to be a friend to Constance." Before she could make any reply, he quickly asked, "May I sit down?"
Mrs. Bennet was not pleased with his gravity. Though she knew him not to be of a lively disposition, this serious talk was making her uncomfortable. She invited him to sit down on a chair opposite the sofa on which she sat.
"Because of these desires," he continued, "and as a result of serious discussion with Miss Elizabeth, we have agreed to end our engagement." All the pain quickly returned and nearly choked his voice.
"What?!" cried Mrs. Bennet, disbelieving every word of it. This was the last thing she expected to hear. "You cannot be serious! You cannot end the engagement! What kind of talk is this?"
"Indeed, I cannot end it," he replied patiently, "but Miss Elizabeth can, and I have persuaded her that she must, and she has agreed that it should be done."
"Mr. Grinly, please! I will talk to Lizzy myself. There must be some mistake. I will tell Lizzy that she shall marry you!"
Mrs. Bennet was worked up nearly into a panic. Having congratulated herself on marrying off her second daughter, she was not at all prepared to learn otherwise.
"That is impossible, Mrs. Bennet," declared Mr. Grinly.
"Why is it impossible?" she begged. "It must be possible."
Mrs. Bennet was barely able to remain seated. Her agitation of mind was evident and her voice grew louder. Elizabeth, who was witnessing it all, was uncomfortable enough, and wanted to intervene, but remained hidden, recalling her promise to Mr. Grinly.
"I cannot in good conscience marry your daughter."
"What? Good conscience?" she repeated loudly. "What has that girl done to offend you?"
"I believe it is impossible, madam, for Miss Elizabeth to offend anyone," he said calmly. "However, it is not in my power to bring her the happiness she deserves," he said. "She will be miserable with me, and would soon regret marrying me."
"Lizzy is a good humored sort of girl," said Mrs. Bennet. "There will be no unhappiness, of course there will not! I will talk to her. I will bring her to reason."
"Madam, it is not she to whom you must speak," declared Mr. Grinly. "It is I. This is my decision, not hers. Her delicacy of mind alone allows her acquiesce. I am resolved, Mrs. Bennet. For her welfare, and that of my daughter and myself, I cannot marry Miss Elizabeth. It is impossible."
"She shall be ruined!" cried Mrs. Bennet in frustration. "We shall all be ruined!"
"Elizabeth has not been compromised. Her virtue is intact and she will love again and be loved by someone who can truly care for her. I agree that there may be some uncomfortable moments, but your true friends will stand by you and console you in your disappointment, and very soon, all will be forgot," he said, speaking as encouragingly as he could.
"You cannot be serious! Why cannot you make her happy?" demanded Mrs. Bennet.
It was time for the conversation to end. Rational argument would be fruitless with an unreasonable woman.
"I beg of you," said Mr. Grinly earnestly, "that you do not make this any more uncomfortable for Miss Elizabeth or myself than it already is. The decision has been made."
"Oh, Mr. Grinly!"
Elizabeth chose this moment to enter the room.
"Mama..."
"Elizabeth Bennet!" screamed her mother. "I have done with you from this day forward! I do not know what you have done to make Mr. Grinly reject you, but it must have been something awful!"
Elizabeth silently agreed with her mother in this regard. It was awful.
"Mrs. Bennet, you must not blame Miss Elizabeth. It is wholly my decision," said Mr. Grinly as firmly as courtesy would admit. It was his desire to silence Mrs. Bennet.
"Mr. Grinly," said Elizabeth, "you should not, I mean, I..."
"Elizabeth, please." He looked at her earnestly, begging her with his eyes not to speak further.
In her heart she was sorry for being the cause of all the pain and discomfort he must be feeling and all the anger her mother experienced. Mr. Grinly was correct, though. Ending the engagement was the only way he and Constance could hope to arrive at happiness in the future. For herself, she held no such expectations.
Having tasted love after so many years of being alone, except for Constance, Elizabeth was certain Mr. Grinly would not chose to stay that way for long. She had discovered a gentle heart in Mr. Grinly. He must love someone.
"Elizabeth, I never want to see you again," cried Mrs. Bennet, who then stormed out of the room.
Elizabeth took her mother's seat on the sofa. She had no tears left for crying, though she felt all the sorrow that often accompanies such tears. She felt shamed and embarrassed and could only imagine what life would be like around Longbourn until her mother had vented every feeling she had on the subject, which, in all likelihood, would be no time soon.
Mr. Grinly sympathized with Elizabeth. He was no longer able to prevent forming an ill opinion of her mother. He had been striving to love her and he was willing to make many allowances for Mrs. Bennet, but he would not countenance cruelty to Elizabeth.
He first broke the silence. "Perhaps you should stay with Mrs. Bingley for some little while, until your mother's anger has abated. Would you like me to arrange for an invitation?"
"No, but thank you," Elizabeth answered with a weak smile. "I want to be the one that breaks the news to Jane. I am grateful to you, for in speaking to my mother you have preserved me from some of her immediate disappointment, but I cannot ask you to do more."
He looked at her silently. She continued.
"I will go speak with Constance now, sir. I will ask her to walk out with me." She knew in her heart that it was the right thing to do.
"I will leave you then," said Mr. Grinly. "I know you wish to speak with her alone."
It would be a conversation he would like very much to hear, but by his very presence, it would not take place. Elizabeth and Constance had a close relationship, as a woman might feel for a sister or a lifelong friend. It would be uncomfortable for both of them at first, he thought, but it was an experience that should not be denied them. They had shared so much together, and very likely they would never meet again.
"Very well. I will go to her now." And so saying, Elizabeth was on the point of leaving the drawing room when Mr. Grinly called her back.
"Miss Bennet..." he began. "Elizabeth..." his voice softened. "I cannot leave Longbourn without saying..." He stopped.
She colored, looking at him expectantly. He seemed embarrassed, which only contributed to her own anxiety, yet she would not leave him until he had done.
"Elizabeth," he said earnestly, "I must express my admiration for you."
She was made speechless by this declaration.
He went on. "You have brought such joy to my life since I have been here, and..."
She could not help but interrupt him. Hearing such things from him would be unbearable.
"...And pain," she concluded.
He thought for a moment. "I do suffer," he said, "but that does not change how I felt about you. I would give anything for matters to have worked out differently."
How could she respond to such a profession? She could only remain silent and be pained for his pain and grieve for his heartache.
"I wish you every happiness, Elizabeth, every happiness imaginable."
Finding her voice, Elizabeth said, "Mr. Grinly, that is my same hope for you. And I also hope someday you will forgive me."
Elizabeth left the drawing room realizing that this was probably the last conversation she would ever have with Mr. Grinly. Ascending the stairs with no little apprehension, she reached the top with her courage nearly failing her. Gathering her wits about her to do what she knew she must, she knocked on Constance's door.
Elizabeth was certain that Constance would know who was knocking, and so was not surprised when she was not immediately invited in. There was a little time between Elizabeth's knock and Constance's opening the door, a hesitation, as if a decision was being made or a resolution determined.
Constance opened the door, saying nothing to Elizabeth, and then walked back to the bed and sat down.
"I am sorry, Constance, for disturbing you," Elizabeth began as she stepped just inside the door. Elizabeth determined not to press herself on Constance and therefore made no effort to come farther in the room than was necessary to close the door behind her.
"Your visit is unexpected," said Constance in a very soft voice with a hint of disbelief in it. With more confidence, she added, "I mean, I did not believe I would see you again."
Constance turned nervously away from Elizabeth, one instant clasping her hands in front of her, in another letting them fall by her side. She seemed very agitated and upset.
"I suppose," began Elizabeth, "that your father has informed you that we..." Elizabeth knew that he had, but she knew no other way of beginning.
"Yes," said Constance turning to face Elizabeth.
Elizabeth could see an expression of bitterness cross Constance's features.
"Yes, he did!" she cried accusingly, and with impatience. "Yes, my father told me that you..." Then she stopped with a horror-struck look on her face.
Elizabeth refused to be offended by her abruptness, knowing that Constance must be frustrated by all the changes occurring so suddenly in her life, but before she could consider it further, Constance ran to Elizabeth and embraced her.
"Oh, Elizabeth. I did not mean to be so harsh. Please, forgive me. Please."
Constance was torn between feelings of resentment for Elizabeth, as a daughter might feel for her injured father, and feelings of compassion, such as a friend might feel for another who was suffering. This caused her to speak what she did not mean to say and brought tears to her eyes.
"Constance," said Elizabeth reassuringly, "there is nothing to forgive."
The young lady composed herself and pulled back from Elizabeth, standing meekly before her.
Elizabeth's voice was full of compassion and gentleness.
"I was wondering if we could talk." She held her breath for a moment, unable to ascertain Constance's feelings during the little pause that ensued.
"Yes," replied Constance with a weak smile, "I would like that."
"Then would you be willing to walk out in the garden for a little while?"
The ladies exited the house in silence and progressed across the lawn to the back of the garden where they were assured of privacy. Elizabeth was particularly anxious to avoid the notice of her mother.
"Constance, I know that your father has informed you that we have ended our engagement," said Elizabeth. She touched Constance's arm for just a moment. The latter gave the former a serious, though tentative glance. Elizabeth made an effort to reassure her with a faint smile. Constance noticeably relaxed, and reaching up, took Elizabeth's arm.
"He has, Elizabeth, but I do not understand why it must end. Why cannot you marry my father?" asked Constance.
Constance strove to keep her mind busy, for if she thought too much about her feelings she might begin to cry, and the thought of crying in front of Elizabeth was dreadful. Before, for any other reason, she would have taken comfort from Elizabeth, but now she felt it would be a sign of weakness, something she dare not entertain for her father's sake. She must be strong for him.
"You and I have touched briefly on my relationship with Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth began carefully, "so you may have some idea of my feelings towards that man."
"I believe that you love him," said Constance sadly. It was her father that Elizabeth should love. Oh, why could it not be?
"When I agreed to marry your father, I thought that I did not love Mr. Darcy any more," replied Elizabeth. "I thought that he was out of my mind and heart, but he was not. It is your father's opinion that because of this attachment my heart is not free, and he believes that if he were to marry me, I would not be happy. And it is true. I would not be happy knowing that I love Mr. Darcy and because of this could not bring happiness to your father's life. Your father feels that I could never love him and that I would soon come to resent both him and you." It pained her to speak thus. Why was doing the right thing so difficult and why must innocent hearts suffer?
"I cannot believe that you would ever resent me. I know you would not," cried Constance as she pulled herself closer to Elizabeth. She could not imagine that Elizabeth, with whom she had shared so much and whom she loved so well, could ever feel anything but affection for her.
"I do not believe that I would, either. You are a very sweet girl, Constance. Anyone who knows you, must love you, and I love you very much," assured Elizabeth.
"So, you do not love my father?" asked Constance. It was more of a statement than a question.
"No, and I am worried that with such strong feelings for Mr. Darcy, I do not believe I ever could." What an awful confession this was. Because she did not listen to the prompting of her own heart, two other hearts were now hurt.
Elizabeth continued. "It would be very unfair to your father for me to marry him without being deeply attached to him. He is such a wonderful man, and you are so lucky to have him. I cannot bear the thought of making him unhappy, which I surely would."
"Does this mean you're going to marry Mr. Darcy?"
"No, Constance," replied Elizabeth. "Last night at Netherfield I was given the chance to reconcile with him, but I did not. He hurt me very badly, Constance, and I was determined to keep my obligation to your father, so I sent Mr. Darcy away without even seeing him. It was cowardly and unkind of me."
"Oh, Elizabeth. You will be alone!" Elizabeth saw tears beginning to form in her companion's eyes. "Elizabeth, I was so happy in the thought of us being a family."
"Constance, I am so sorry. I did not mean for things to end this way. I feel terrible. I have hurt everyone, it seems."
"I am worried about you, Elizabeth. Will anything ever change between you and Mr. Darcy?" asked Constance. "I mean, if you love him, should not you be with him?"
"He has left Hertfordshire and I do not expect to ever see him again," Elizabeth replied. This thought was frightening. It was now her worst fear. "I cannot imagine that he would want to see me even if he could, not after last night."
They walked on a little further until they reached a familiar tree and bench. Elizabeth sat and invited Constance to join her.
"But, Elizabeth," asked Constance, who was not yet finished on the subject of Mr. Darcy, "have neither of you heard of forgiveness?"
Constance was incredulous of the idea that two people who loved each other so fervently should not be together. She was heart broken that Elizabeth would not marry her father, but she loved her friend, and could not bear that she should be unhappy.
"Your father asked me the same thing," answered Elizabeth.
Constance was pleased that her insight equaled that of her father. "My father was correct. Elizabeth, please, promise me, I beg of you, that if you ever see Mr. Darcy again, that you will forgive him, and that you will tell him so."
Elizabeth smiled at the earnestness of Constance's plea and could not help but be touched by her sincerity.
"I will, Constance, just for you."
"No, Elizabeth," declared Constance with wisdom far beyond her years. "Do it for you, and for him."
Elizabeth was struck by a singular thought. Is that all it took, that she seek for Mr. Darcy's forgiveness and grant him her own? Was it that simple?
"He loves you, Elizabeth," said her companion. "And I know you love him."
Returning from their walk together, the young women encountered Mrs. Bennet in the entryway. Sensing her anger, Constance excused herself.
"Elizabeth Bennet," shouted her mother. "There you are! Sit down!"
Mrs. Bennet pointed angrily at a chair. Elizabeth silently took a seat and prepared for the worst.
"Lizzy, you have spoiled your best, your only chance for happiness! You have ruined everything! You..."
"Mama, I..."
"I will not be interrupted! If you go on refusing every offer of marriage that comes your way you will never get a husband! You will end up an old maid and will die in this very house unless Mr. Bingley turns you out beforehand, and who will take care of you then?! I told you I have done with you, and I will be as good as my word! Think of the disappointment you caused Mr. and Miss Grinly. Do they deserve that kind of treatment?! No, they do not! Your behavior is..."
Elizabeth sat patiently while Mrs. Bennet continued to rant. Every insult, every reference to the pain she caused Mr. Grinly, cut deep inside her. It was a punishment to listen to her mother, but she felt she must hear it.
When her mother had exhausted her strength for expostulation, Elizabeth sought refuge in the silence of her own bedchamber. The wish of her heart was to speak with Jane. Perhaps Mr. Grinly was correct. Maybe she should go to Netherfield for a few days.
Elizabeth was many hours lying restless in her bed before she was blessed with the insensibility of sleep. Though finding difficulty in falling asleep, her weariness caused her to remain late abed. When Elizabeth finally went downstairs in the morning, she was informed by Mrs. Hill that Mr. and Miss Grinly had departed.
A deep feeling of sadness nearly overwhelmed her as she considered the pain and upset that the Grinlys must be carrying with them on their journey. She felt their loss as much as they did hers. In Constance she had found a sister and a friend. Although she had been unable to attach herself to Mr. Grinly, it did not mean that she wished for circumstances to turn out as they had. Any woman loves being admired by a kind and generous man, and Mr. Grinly was both.
Their absence created a hole in Elizabeth's life that her family was unable to fill, and she felt her spirits become more and more depressed.
Elizabeth had regained some strength after breakfasting on toast and drinking chocolate. As soon as she could slip out of Longbourn unnoticed, she began the walk to Netherfield. The closer she came to Jane, the closer her feelings moved to the surface of her heart, and by the time she reached the front door she could no longer hold back her tears. Elizabeth rang the bell and was greeted by Jane herself.
"Lizzy, I thought I told you I would send the...Lizzy! What is wrong? Come here." Jane pulled Elizabeth against her and held her until she settled down. Without a word, she gently led Elizabeth into the small sitting room and placed her on a couch.
"Lizzy, please tell me what is wrong." Jane had never seen Elizabeth this upset.
"Oh, Jane!" cried Elizabeth. "I have caused them so much pain!" Her voice was filled with agony.
"Whom have you hurt?" asked Jane. "I am certain you did not intend it." She brushed a curl off of Elizabeth's face.
Elizabeth's tears continued to flow freely. Jane was pained to see it.
"Mr. and Miss Grinly," cried Elizabeth. "They left this morning for Wiltshire."
Jane was surprised. This is not what had been decided. "Were they not to remain at Longbourn until your wedding?"
Elizabeth hesitated, as if she was unable to speak the words. With great difficulty, she whispered, "There is to be no wedding."
"What happened?" cried Jane. That Elizabeth and Mr. Grinly would not marry had been the farthest thing from her mind. She was convinced that all was resolved between them. "Surely you did not quarrel..."
Again there was a painful pause.
"We agreed to end the engagement," Elizabeth declared. "We..." She stopped.
Jane waited silently for Elizabeth to continue.
"Mr. Grinly persuaded me to believe that because of my attachment to Mr. Darcy, we could not be happy together. He feared that I would come to resent him."
Jane's arm was around Elizabeth and she continued to hold her. Elizabeth leaned heavily against Jane, her strength exhausted from the emotional exertions of the past few days.
"Do you believe that?" asked Jane. "Why does he believe you would resent him?"
"I know I do not love Mr. Grinly," replied Elizabeth, "and because of Mr. Darcy, I do not believe I ever could. Mr. Grinly is correct, Jane, we would not have been happy together."
Jane was troubled by one part of Elizabeth's relation. "You told me he persuaded you. Do you mean to say you would prefer that he had not?"
"He felt very strongly," answered Elizabeth, "and I could not deny the attraction that I feel for Mr. Darcy and that I did not feel for him. It was only reasonable that I agree to end the engagement. Mr. Grinly said that I would soon regret marrying him knowing that I loved another."
"I am so sorry, Lizzy."
"It is for the best, Jane," said Elizabeth, with much more confidence than she felt. "I wish him every happiness. I feel most deeply for Constance, though. She is so disappointed. We had so many plans for what we would do together. I think that hers is the greatest loss of all." Elizabeth's heart ached when she recalled her last meeting with Constance.
The sisters' conversation continued until Mrs. Thomas interrupted them with a tray of lemonade.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Mrs. Thomas, addressing herself to Jane, "but Mr. Bingley insisted that I bring you some refreshment." She set the tray down on the table nearest Jane.
"Thank you, Mrs. Thomas," said Jane gratefully. And with a smile, she added, "And please tell Mr. Bingley that we have not forgotten about him."
After Mrs. Thomas had left the room, Elizabeth said, "You have such a sweet husband."
"I love him dearly," was Jane's reply. She poured out two glasses of lemonade and gave one to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth went on. "I knew that the Grinlys were to leave this morning. Mr. Grinly had told me so yesterday," said Elizabeth. "But when I came down, I was still bewildered to learn that they had actually left; that they were gone. For good or for ill, they have been such a part of my life these past weeks that I hardly know what to do with myself now that they are gone."
"Ever since your fall, Lizzy, you have experienced a tumult of emotions, more so than is natural for any one person to experience in so short a time. You should not feel bad because you do not feel yourself, for I hardly believe you know what it means to be yourself any longer," consoled Jane.
"I feel so empty," said Elizabeth, "so hollow. I feel as though my life has no direction or purpose any longer. Despite the fact that ending my engagement with Mr. Grinly was the correct decision, I still miss him and Constance. And Mr. Darcy. My heart aches when I think of him."
"Oh, Lizzy, I wish I could love you as much as you deserved," said Jane as she embraced her sister.
"Jane, at the end of my conversation with Mr. Grinly," Elizabeth said thoughtfully, "when all was decided, he said something of real import, and it has affected me deeply."
"And what is that?" Jane was all curiosity.
"Mr. Grinly told me to forgive Mr. Darcy."
"He said that?"
Jane was not surprised to hear it. During her conversation with Elizabeth, she had become more acquainted with Mr. Grinly and something that stood out in her mind as a positive attribute that he possessed was integrity. Ever since he made the decision to let Elizabeth go, he had promoted her relationship with Mr. Darcy. Mr. Grinly claimed no injury, was not resentful and had never ceased to love.
"Yes," continued Elizabeth, "he said that only the people we love most deeply have the power to hurt us, but if they do, it does not mean we cease to love them."
"I had not thought about that before, Lizzy," said Jane, "but I suppose that it is true."
Elizabeth was silent for a moment as she focused on Jane's last words. ...it is true. Yes, she thought, it is true. And something else is also true.
"I love him, Jane. I love Mr. Darcy."
Elizabeth had not intended to hurt Jane, but Jane was affected. She felt responsible for Elizabeth's engagement to Mr. Grinly and consequent separation from Mr. Darcy. She remembered how she and Elizabeth used to talk together about love and marriage, and how Elizabeth had always told her she would only marry someone with whom she was in love, and not for convenience. She had persuaded Elizabeth to deny that love, and now Elizabeth was suffering for it. Jane's thoughts immediately turned to Mr. Darcy, wondering what she could do to reunite him with Elizabeth, but better judgment prevailed. She would allow Elizabeth the freedom to act for herself, but would assist her in any way that she could.
"Oh, Lizzy, I know you do," consoled Jane, and hoping to change the subject to one less tender, she asked, "How is Mama taking the news?"
"Not very well," replied Elizabeth sadly. "She blames me and is being rather unpleasant."
"Then why do you not stay at Netherfield with us until the storm has blown over. Would you be willing to do that?" asked Jane. "I will send a servant to Longbourn for your things and to inform Mama that you will be with us for now." She would employ every advantage she possessed to assist her most beloved sister as she struggled with a broken heart, a confused mind and an uncertain future.
"Thank you, Jane. I would like that very much."
Chapter 21
Arriving in London after what seemed like an interminably long ride from Hertfordshire in a slow, noisy carriage, Darcy stumbled through the door of his London townhouse.
The silence was deafening.
Georgiana was not at home and neither his housekeeper nor any of the servants were prepared for his arrival.
He stepped heavily through the hall towards the solitude of his library, his body weighed down with grief. He could describe the emotion he felt in no better term grief, for it seemed as though someone close to him had died. Indeed, Elizabeth was dead to him now. He remembered these same feelings from five years ago when his father died.
Having sat in silence for hours, Darcy heard a light knock at the door. If he did not respond, he knew no one would dare come in, so it was with no little surprise and quickly rising anger that he saw the knob turn and someone prepare to enter.
"Leave me!" he bellowed angrily. He struck the desk with an open hand, the sound punctuating his command.
The unwelcome intruder was no less startled by his violence than he was by the appearance of his sister, Georgiana.
"Fitzwilliam," she said in a faltering voice, "I did not mean...I am sorry that...I...." She turned and fled the room. Georgiana was not accustomed to her brother raising his voice and the prospect was frightening.
Darcy sprang from his chair and ran to her, gently calling her name. She was reassured by the softened look on his face. Taking her elbow, he led her back to the library, apologizing for distressing her.
"Georgiana, I did not mean to frighten you," he said soothingly. "Please forgive me. I am so sorry. You are always welcome here, you must know that. Please, come and sit with me. There is no fire, but I have a blanket with which to warm you." Chastising himself for the bad temper that led him to abuse her, he assisted her into a chair by the empty fireplace. He took the promised blanket and covered her.
As he sat down next to Georgiana, Darcy realized just how injured he was as a result of losing Elizabeth. If this behavior towards Georgiana was a sample of how he might act in the future, his life was going to one of misery.
Georgiana was quick to forgive him. She knew he was suffering and would say nothing to disrupt what she knew were delicate emotions. Instead, she stated the obvious.
"Fitzwilliam," she said hesitantly, "I was not expecting you home so soon."
Grateful for her generosity in not mentioning his affront, he quickly answered. "I had not meditated such an early return, but I found that I had no reason to remain in Hertfordshire. Indeed, I found that my presence was unwelcome."
Despite the blanket, a chill passed through Georgiana. She knew why he had gone to Hertfordshire, and if he were back so soon, nothing good could have come of his trip. She pulled the blanket closer around her.
"Fitzwilliam," began Georgiana, "I can see that you are not well" She would not venture to say more about his appearance. "What may I do for you?"
Darcy shook his head with a bitter laugh.
"There is nothing you can do," he replied in a tone of despondency. "There is nothing anyone can do. I have lost her, Georgiana. Elizabeth is to marry another man." His breathing was rapid and shallow and the sorrow and weariness in his eyes were very apparent.
Uncertain as to how to respond, she gave him a weak smile and a nod as encouragement to continue speaking.
"Oh, Georgiana," he said with frustration, "Elizabeth loves me. I could see it in her eyes and her sister confirmed it when we spoke privately."
"Did you meet her ... her..."
There was a moment of silence as Georgiana searched for a delicate way to ask the question.
"...her future husband?" finished Darcy. "Are those the words for which you are searching, but will not speak? You will not offend me. I have punished myself enough. No one else can injure me." His head dropped against his chest.
"Yes," he answered. "I met him." In a whisper, he added, "Mr. Grinly is shy, quiet and unassuming." And with a voice tinctured with anger, "And she does not love him!"
His words echoed in the quiet room.
"Then why? Why is she marrying him?" asked Georgiana incredulously.
From what little she knew of Elizabeth Bennet, allowing for the fact that all she knew of her was from her brother's report, she did not think that Miss Bennet was the kind of young woman who would marry where she did not love.
"To escape me. It is my opinion that she wants to leave Hertfordshire and all her friends and go off to Wiltshire with this man in order to free herself from the attachment she feels for me, perhaps even to punish me." That did sound arrogant, to be sure, but he was certain of the truth of it.
"She should marry you, Fitzwilliam!" cried Georgiana. "She will only be hurting herself. Does not she see that? How can she expect to be happy marrying a man she does not love?"
"Georgiana, I do not believe she expects to be happy."
"Are all her hopes for happiness really that blighted, Fitzwilliam?" asked Georgiana.
"Oh, how I hurt her!" cried Darcy. "She does not love Mr. Grinly, therefore he cannot hurt her and she is safe with him."
"Oh, Fitzwilliam, that is so sad."
He could say no more, but stepped over to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy. The heat of the liquid was like fire in his throat as he quickly drank it down, but compared to the flames burning in his mind and heart, it accounted for nothing. He reached again for the brandy.
Georgiana pushed her blanket aside and moved to join her brother at the sideboard.
"Do not be foolish, sir," she whispered, taking the glass from his hand. "It will only make it worse."
For a moment he was quiet and just looked at her. Then he spoke.
"You are correct now and you were also correct when you told me to return to her. I will follow your advice because I know the price I am paying for not having listened to you before."
She pulled him into an embrace and heard a groan of despair rumble deep in his chest. She could not imagine what he was feeling, but his anguish and raw emotion were painful to witness. Georgiana felt helpless. There was little or nothing she could say or do that might console him or ease the burden he carried in his mind and heart.
"Go on up to bed, sister," he whispered in her ear.
She left him without a word or a sound.
When he was alone, he eyed the brandy and fingered his glass, but thinking of Georgiana, he set it down again and retired to his own bedchamber for the night. He knew he had no hope of sleep, but there was, in fact, no place else for him to go.
Elizabeth was grateful to escape both Longbourn and her disagreeable mother, and it was with the greatest relief that she found herself installed at Netherfield in the bedchamber that she considered to be her own, the room where she recovered from her fall. She chose it as the best place to pour out her heart in thoughts of Mr. Darcy. Jane assumed that Elizabeth was very fatigued, and that it was for this reason that she spent so much time above stairs when she was not out of doors.
Everyday the weather was fine. Elizabeth wandered around the grounds of Netherfield just as her mind wandered through the streets of London in search of Mr. Darcy. One day while walking some distance from the house, as she came upon a turning in the path, she caught sight of a tree root raised up from the ground. Though she had no recollection of her accident, she fancied that this must have been the spot where she fell, that this was the place where she was unknowingly introduced to Mr. Darcy's notice, that right here he had come upon her and held her while awaiting Mr. Bingley's carriage. Perhaps next to that small green shoot was where he found her ribbon. He had kept her ribbon with him from that time forward as an endearment and a remembrance. Now he had no need for it. It was too late. He had returned the ribbon, and at her bidding, was gone.
The days passed slowly for Elizabeth. Every morning she walked out, going past either the tree root or sitting on one of the rocks in the stream thinking of Mr. Darcy and letting the water run through her fingers. The water flowed gently, yet she felt as isolated on that rock from the opposite bank of the stream as she was from Mr. Darcy. What would it take to reach him, and should she try?
She wondered if he ever thought of her, and wondered if she would ever stop thinking of him. She wanted news of him and wished to learn if he were at peace. She harbored no bitterness towards him, only love and longing.
In the deepest moments of despair, she would imagine him walking into the drawing room while she was at her work. She would look up at him and their eyes would meet. Soon their hands would come together, and then their lips. Sometimes these feelings became so vivid that she was nearly in tears by the time the emotion passed.
Jane was becoming ever more concerned about Elizabeth. She had hoped that the passing of time would begin to heal Elizabeth's heart, but it seemed that everyday her spirits were no better. Jane carefully watched over Elizabeth, always aware of where she was, when she left the house and when she might be expected back again. Her desire to protect Elizabeth was further excited each time she came upon her sitting alone in silent tears.
Elizabeth's melancholy was painful for Jane to witness. She had always been so lively and enthusiastic, full of life and vigor, with a smile and a cheerful word for everyone, but all that was gone now. In their place were sadness and heartache.
Agonizing over every moment that Elizabeth was alone, Jane spent as much time with her as she could, often accompanying her on her walks, and on one particular day, they were in the garden near the house. They had been pursuing their way in companionable silence when Jane put her hand on Elizabeth's arm and began to speak.
"Lizzy, what can I do for you?" asked Jane. "I know you are not happy, and it pains me to see it. Is there not anything I can do for you?"
Elizabeth attempted to put on a happy air, not wanting Jane to suffer for her lack of spirits, but it was a futile effort. Jane was so familiar with her moods and tempers that there was very little she could conceal from her.
"You are doing everything, Jane," replied Elizabeth with a weak smile. "I love being at Netherfield with you and your adorable husband."
"Yes," smiled Jane, "my husband is adorable, but, Lizzy, I love you very much and I want to know what I can do to make you happier."
They walked on for a few steps while Elizabeth determined how or whether she should open her heart to Jane.
"I do not know if I am allowed to express such feelings as I have," said Elizabeth. "I do not know if it is appropriate for me to..." She paused.
"Lizzy..."
"Oh, Jane," said Elizabeth with a frown, "I am afraid. I fear that you will not approve of me."
Jane smiled at her. "Lizzy," she whispered, touching her hand to her cheek, "you can tell me."
"Very well," Elizabeth sighed. Her eyes started to burn and she turned abruptly away in embarrassment. "I want to be with Mr. Darcy!" She looked back at Jane and gently said, "I want to be married to him. I want to be his wife."
Jane was not surprised by the emotion or the declaration. She put her arms around Elizabeth and held her close.
Her sister continued. "Does Charles ever hear from him? Oh, Jane, where is he? How is he?" Her voice spoke of desperation.
Jane attempted to reply. "We have not heard from him since..." But she could not finish. The memory was too painful.
"...since that night," said Elizabeth bitterly. "I was in error, Jane." She shook her head. "I made a grave mistake."
Jane watched apprehensively as Elizabeth's countenance darkened. She struggled to formulate a response.
"But he hurt you, Lizzy, and you said you did not trust him. Your behavior was understandable. You should not censure yourself," encouraged Jane, though not quite believing it herself.
"You may say that, Jane, but the fact remains that I love Mr. Darcy, yet I am not with him." A tear trickled down Elizabeth's cheek. "I know I shall never see him again."
Elizabeth could speak no further, and they walked on without another word. Upon gaining the house, Elizabeth withdrew to her bedchamber and was not seen for the rest of the day.
Jane had not needed Elizabeth's confession of her desire to be married to Mr. Darcy to believe that her depressed state of spirits were the result of the love she harbored for him. Now being in possession of Elizabeth's open avowal of such a desire, Jane considered herself to be at liberty to effect a reunion between the former lovers. Truthfully, Jane knew there was little she could do herself, but a great deal might be accomplished by some exertion on the part of her husband who, when he knew her design, she assured herself, would engage himself to assist her by every means in his power.
Jane found her husband at his accustomed place in the study behind a noble desk of the finest wood. She believed that the solid strength of his desk was mirrored in the man sitting behind it. In him she had trusted her heart, her happiness and her hopes and from him, had gained everything.
"Charles, do you have a moment for me?" asked Jane as she peeked into the study to see him writing a letter.
Bingley looked up with a smile at the sound of her voice. "I have a lifetime for you, my love. Please come in."
He rose and met her half way across the room and assisted her to a sofa that, with two other chairs, formed a small sitting area in front of the fire. He sat beside her and took her hand.
Knowing she had his full attention, she began.
"I am very worried about Elizabeth. She is not happy and time is not healing her heart."
"I join you in your apprehensions," said Bingley with some emotion. "I have noticed that she does not look well."
He paused, and Jane was about to speak when he went on.
"She eats so very little and when I see her in the morning she appears tormented and exhausted. She does not laugh any longer."
"She is not well, Charles," said Jane, "but," she added with a smile, "I now know what we can do for her."
"Do you?" Bingley was relieved to know that something might be done. "And what is that? You know I will do anything for her."
Jane leaned her head on her husband's shoulder as he sat back on the sofa. Sitting and talking with him in such a manner as this was one of her dearest pleasures.
"Charles, she has confessed to me that she is still in love with Mr. Darcy," said Jane in a tone that implied she was revealing something new.
"But have not we always known that?" he asked, not surprised to hear it.
"Yes, we have, but the situation is different now. She has made a decision. It is her desire to be with him. It is a studied desire that has not arisen from the impulse of the moment, but is the true feeling of her heart."
Bingley said nothing, so Jane went on.
"She has conceded that she made a mistake in sending him away and I believe her. If she was not in love, she would act more like herself, but she is not. She is truly attached to Mr. Darcy and I feel called on to help her in anyway that I can. Unfortunately, I cannot do much for her," said Jane, pausing, "but you can."
"Me?"
"Yes," replied Jane. "I would like you to write to Mr. Darcy."
Bingley was silent, considering the implications of resuming contact with his friend who he had deliberately cut off in an effort to protect Elizabeth's fragile relationship with Mr. Grinly. Would it not seem insincere to resume a correspondence with him? Yet his intentions had been honorable, and the engagement was now broken.
"But, Jane, I have had no contact with him since he was last here," said Bingley. "I had thought, well, that we could not continue..." He hesitated, then went on. "...for Elizabeth's sake, that we could not remain friends."
It was Jane's turn for a moment of reflection. Even worse than encouraging Elizabeth to marry Mr. Grinly was preventing her husband from maintaining a relationship with his best friend. As she looked back she could not countenance her behavior in any way that satisfied her.
"I am sorry, Charles. It was wrong of me. Please write to him and extend to him my warmest regards and an apology."
"An apology?"
"Yes. I know he feels I am his greatest enemy and I want to correct that impression. I am not. I want to be his friend. Oh, Charles, I am so sorry. I had no right to separate you. It was cruel and was based on a mistaken assumption of the needs I felt Elizabeth had in her relationship with Mr. Grinly, but a commitment to one man should not be based on the absence of attentions from another."
"I know," said Bingley, "that you did not intend to injure anyone."
"But do you not see? I have injured everyone - Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth and you!"
"No one blames you, Jane."
"Perhaps, but they ought." She turned her head into his shoulder. "Please forgive me."
Bingley laid Jane back in his arms until he was cradling her head in the crook of his arm and staring deeply into her eyes. He could tell that she was very near tears.
"Jane, what am I to do with you...?" he whispered as he kissed her.
The following morning, Mrs. Thomas sent a servant into Meryton to post a letter written by her master in an effort to heal relationships that had been damaged over the course of the past few weeks.
It read as follows:
NetherfieldDarcy,
I have not heard from you since you left Hertfordshire and I just want you to know everyone here is thinking of you.
Mrs. Bingley sends her warmest greetings and begs that I tell you that she hopes you are well. She asks me to encourage you to write and let us know how you are faring, and that she would be certain to pass your salutations on to all your friends in Hertfordshire.
You may be unaware, perhaps, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is with us. She and Mr. Grinly ended their engagement and he has returned to Wiltshire. Although their separation was amicable, Elizabeth is not happy. She has very tender feelings over what I believe is a recent loss.
Please forgive my part in our past differences. Indeed, I can hardly remember over what we disagreed. Please, let us always remain friends.
Yours, &c.
CB
To say that Darcy was astonished on receipt of this letter would not adequately describe his feelings, not that any words could. Indeed, he could not utter a sound, but could only read and reread with shocked amazement the news that Elizabeth was not married.
Immediately on the heels of his astonishment was concern. Elizabeth was not happy. It is no small matter to terminate an engagement, to be sure, and her residing at Netherfield was a statement as to the difficulties she was experiencing with her family. He had great confidence in the honor and integrity of Mr. Grinly. Whatever had occurred between him and Elizabeth, it had happened with her full knowledge and consent.
He knew of nothing in her life that could be accounted as a loss. Was it possible that she had repented her decision? Hope immediately kindled in his breast. Hope that she might yet love him.
Two things must be concluded. First, he had imagined that he would never hear from Bingley again. He had assumed that in an effort to prevent further injury to her sister, Mrs. Bingley would force an end to their friendship, but she had not. Regardless of what precipitated this letter, Bingley would not have written without his wife's knowledge.
Second, when he considered all his acquaintances in Hertfordshire that may wish to hear from him, he could only think of Bingley. Who else could it be? Was it possible that Elizabeth wished to know of him?
Yet there could be no other explanation. It must be Elizabeth.
The darkness that had clouded Darcy's mind from the moment he left Hertfordshire began to lift, and it was all he could do to restrain himself from leaving immediately for Netherfield. Yet it was impossible for him to go. He would not risk it. He could not endure being near Elizabeth unless he was sure that she would forgive and accept him, and it seemed to him incomprehensible that she would, not after what he had done. Yet that letter...
Elizabeth should not be left wondering. He must seize the opportunity to speak to her and avail himself of Mrs. Bingley's invitation to send a message that would be passed on to Elizabeth.
What to write? He could not profess the love he felt. She may not be prepared to hear it, and she would only become embarrassed because Bingley and her sister would undoubtedly see the letter before she did. No. All he could do was let her know that she was never far from his thoughts and that he had not forgotten her.
Taking his pen, and after many trials and frustrations, the following letter was ready to be posted to Netherfield.
LondonBingley,
It was such a pleasure to hear from you. I pray that you will forgive my mistaken neglect in not writing sooner. Georgiana is well and asks me to send you her love.
My thoughts frequently turn towards Hertfordshire and the great enjoyment I experienced being with you when you first occupied Netherfield. I have never been happier than I was during those short weeks.
London is a little thin this time of year, but it makes no difference to me. I remain quietly at home. I correspond with my steward at Pemberley regularly, but have no plans for traveling.
I am saddened that anything should have happened to Miss Bennet to make her unhappy, but I am reassured that she is with her sister. She is never far from my thoughts. If there is anything I can do for her, please let me know. I would appreciate nothing more than to be of assistance to her by any means that are in my power.
Please, thank your wife for all the kindness she has shown me. I am looking forward to the day when we can all be together again.
I remain, &c.
FD
The next day, Bingley received Darcy's letter and had the pleasure of sharing it with his wife. Jane, more than pleased with the contents, went in search of her sister, knowing she had information that would be gladly and gratefully received. Elizabeth was outside in the garden, as usual, this time sitting on a bench that encircled the trunk of a large tree.
"Lizzy," said Jane, "I have been looking for you." Jane sat down next to Elizabeth making every effort to suppress her delight.
"You have?" smiled Elizabeth. "I hope I was not hard to find."
"No," laughed Jane, "you are always out here somewhere. But, Lizzy, I have news that will interest you. I have come to tell you that we have had a letter from Mr. Darcy."
Elizabeth was stunned into silence, never having imagined that she would hear from Mr. Darcy again. She both feared and longed to know what the letter contained. She assumed it held a reproof from Mr. Darcy, but when she looked up at Jane and saw that she was smiling, she felt a darkness lift off her heart.
"I dare not ask what is in the letter," said Elizabeth cautiously.
"You will be very happy," replied Jane excitedly. "You must know what it says! As you know, we have not heard from him since he left Netherfield, but Charles wrote to him and mentioned that your engagement had ended and that you were staying with us."
"Oh, Jane, Mr. Bingley wrote to Mr. Darcy? May I ask what Mr. Darcy's response was to that?" Elizabeth petitioned.
"Perhaps you would like to read for yourself," offered Jane, as she handed Elizabeth the envelope.
Elizabeth's eyes grew wide in response to the surprise she felt on reading his letter.
"He sounds well," said Elizabeth, failing to keep the joy she felt from being apparent. Her eyes glittered with happiness.
Jane immediately took note of an improvement in Elizabeth's looks and was yet again satisfied with what she had done.
"Is that all you can say?" teased Jane. "Lizzy, that letter is for you. He has not forgotten you."
"And I have not forgotten him," whispered Elizabeth.
After a moment's silence, she asked, "Do you think it is true, Jane? Do you think he still loves me after all this time, after I sent him away?"
"I am certain of it."
"Really? Do you really mean that?" Elizabeth wanted it to be true. If she only could be certain of his feelings.
"Yes!" replied Jane emphatically.
Elizabeth rose from her seat and stood in front of her sister.
"Oh, Jane, what should I do?"
"Lizzy," said Jane, "you and he have suffered through immense heartache and misunderstanding. I know how strongly you feel about him. I would recommend that you take a chance and send him a note telling him what is in your heart."
"Would that be proper?" asked Elizabeth, all the time rejoicing at the prospect.
"It may be best that in this circumstance propriety be transgressed," advised Jane. "Mr. Darcy is as uncertain of you as you are of him. Give him just a hint as to what you feel. Give him reason to hope, then wait to see how he responds."
"Thank you, Jane. I will. I will write to him."
It was a fine morning when Darcy, returned from an appointment with his solicitor, was greeted by his housekeeper, Mrs. Jamison.
"Mr. Darcy," she said. "Mr. Tilden waiting to see you. I told him you were out, but he insisted on waiting for your return and would not be persuaded to leave. I am very sorry. I know that you do not like to be disturbed in such a manner as this."
"Thank you for your efforts, Mrs. Jamison," Darcy said with a sigh as he relieved himself of his hat and gloves. "I suppose the sooner I see him the sooner he will leave."
Mrs. Jamison laughed.
"I will receive him in the drawing room," said Darcy.
He knew that Mrs. Jamison went to great lengths to insulate him from uninvited callers, so he could only conclude that Mr. Tilden must be in rare form if he were able to stand his ground against her.
There was no doubt in Darcy's mind as to Mr. Tilden's errand, but he was unmoved. It was with a great deal of regret that he recalled those occasions when he had attempted to attach himself to Miss Tilden, a great deal of regret, indeed.
Assuming a proud, dignified air, he proceeded to the drawing room to await his visitor.
Darcy was standing when Mr. Tilden entered the drawing room. He moved quickly to greet him and ushered him to a seat near the comfortable fire.
"Mr. Tilden, welcome to my home. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" asked Darcy. The conventions of society necessitated lies. Pleasure? Not likely.
"Mr. Darcy, I came to learn the truth for myself," began Mr. Tilden as they sat down. "I have heard confusing reports, some telling me that you were in town and others confirming that you were in the country, and not having had the pleasure of your company for quite some time, I thought I would take the liberty of calling."
"As you can see, I am here," said Darcy flatly. "I am sorry you were kept waiting. Mrs. Jamison, of course, told you that I was out?"
"Ah ... she did," answered Mr. Tilden uncomfortably, "but I am not to be at White's until later in the morning, so I asked if I could wait." Mr. Tilden had no appointment to be anywhere, of course.
"Would you care for some tea?" asked Darcy, who was all decorous formality.
"Thank you, but no."
"Well, sir, how long will you be in town this visit? It must be nearly time for you to return to the country. I believe Miss Tilden mentioned that your visit was to be only three months." Darcy concluded that it was best to get directly to what he believed was the point of Mr. Tilden's visit, and so was not unwilling to introduce his daughter into their conversation.
Distractedly, Mr. Tilden answered. "Yes, our visit in town is not quite... No, we have no immediate plans for a removal..." And very pointedly, he added, "And I bring with me Clara's compliments, Mr. Darcy, her warmest compliments..."
"I thank you, sir," said Darcy, "and please extend my..."
"...and a renewal of my offer."
"Your offer, sir?"
"Let me speak plainly, Mr. Darcy. It is my earnest desire to form a match between you and Clara," stated Mr. Tilden.
Darcy was taken back by such a boldfaced attack. He had hoped to escape this interview without giving or receiving offense, but with each word, Mr. Tilden was making that less likely. Marrying his daughter was out of the question.
"Yes, you have touched on that before," said Darcy as lightly as he could, "and as I recall, my response to you was that I did not love your daughter. For that reason, I cannot marry her."
"Mr. Darcy, both our families, though untitled, are ancient and honorable. The fortune on each side is splendid. Upon your marriage, you will immediately receive £35,000. Tilden Manor will be Clara's at my death, and through her, yours. She is a beautiful young lady, highly accomplished and pleasant company. You cannot possibly have an objection to her."
"No, indeed. There can be no objection to Miss Tilden. She is all that you describe," said Darcy. While this was true, there was still something missing, something that Elizabeth possessed. Miss Tilden did not have a sincere heart, an honest mind and any sense of passion. Indeed, Darcy was certain she cared little for him at all. Elizabeth loved only him, not his wealth
"Let me ask you this, Mr. Darcy. Are you engaged elsewhere?"
Once again, Darcy was astonished at Mr. Tilden's presumption.
"No, sir, I am not," said Darcy. Hopefully, he thought to himself, it would not be long before he was. Elizabeth was never far from his thoughts.
"You spoke of love, Mr. Darcy. That is a meaningless concept these days."
Mr. Tilden's boldness was unprecedented. Darcy stared at him incredulously.
He continued. "You are a man of sense and understanding. You cannot possibly consider matters of the heart to exceed the considerations of fortune, connection and rank. Who is it that you claim to love? Surely she would be found wanting in a comparison with my daughter."
Darcy rose to his feet in anger.
"Sir," he commanded, "I beg that you will not importune me any further!"
Mr. Tilden, not yet discouraged, continued to pursue the matter.
"Mr. Darcy, you must satisfy me," said Mr. Tilden as he rose also. "Why will you not consent to marry my daughter?"
"Because, sir, as I have said before," stated Darcy truthfully, "I do not love her."
"And as I have said before, it takes more than love to make a good marriage. Mr. Darcy, you must believe me. I speak from experience."
"Mr. Tilden, I am certain that there is nothing but love that can ensure a happy union."
"Consider what you are throwing away," begged Mr. Tilden. "How can you walk away from such an offer?" He was incredulous that Mr. Darcy could possibly refuse his daughter.
"Mr. Tilden, please consider what it is that you are throwing away," returned Darcy. "Or should I say whom. We are speaking of the happiness of your daughter, of a thinking, feeling individual, not a piece of property to be bartered about. Think of her, Mr. Tilden, and stop thinking of me."
Mr. Tilden was mortified. "I can see that further conversation with you is pointless," he said, rising and giving Darcy a stiff bow. "I take my leave, sir." And he was gone.
Darcy sat back heavily into his chair exhausted from the confrontation. Mr. Tilden had recommended a comparison between his daughter and the woman he loved. Darcy had compared the two. And while it would not be fair to criticize Miss Tilden, Elizabeth's superiority was clearly established.
It was only urgent business that could call Darcy away from his home these days and his visitors were equally as rare. He had very few acquaintances that made any effort to see him, his reticence having offended many.
But Darcy had reason to be happy. The indescribable joy that he felt on hearing that Elizabeth was not married gave him every reason to hope. The hint in Bingley's letter was obvious. It had been just two days since he sent his missive to Netherfield and any day now he hoped to hear from someone there. Most likely it would be Bingley writing something of Elizabeth. Perhaps it would be Mrs. Bingley, who might tell him more. In his heart he wished that it would be Elizabeth, for if it were, his future with her would be secure.
As he walked through the hall from the drawing room to the library, a moment of his time was petitioned for by the butler, who informed him that the post had just arrived with a letter for him. Darcy, feigning composure, calmly accepted the letter, thanked the man and then walked quickly across the hall. When he knew he was unseen, he looked at it to see if it was the one for which he had been waiting.
He could not tell. The directions were written in a fine, flowing, feminine hand, but he had never seen Elizabeth's writing, so he did not know for certain. It was addressed from Netherfield, but there was no name on it. He held his breath as he opened the envelope. The note was not dated and contained just three words.
Please come back.
Accompanying that note was something that he recognized. He laced it through his fingers and kissed it. It was Elizabeth's purple ribbon.